


But Our Friend is a Dog

by RavioliHailstorm



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Animal Death, Animal Transformation, Fluff, Gen, Kidnapping, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavioliHailstorm/pseuds/RavioliHailstorm
Summary: When the wealthy father of an overzealous fan transforms him into a dog, Dream must rely on his friends George and Sapnap to change him back within twenty-four hours. Racing the clock, they uncover the dark secret to reversing the transformation.Even though the Dream Team has stated that they are comfortable with fanfiction, I am happy to take the story down if they request. I'm totally comfortable with them reading it :)Published from September 3rd, 2020 to October 28th, 2020
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Abduction

*Content warnings: violence, kidnapping*

~Dream~

If George and Sapnap were still alive, they gave no sign of it. My friends dropped off social media: Sapnap three days ago, and George yesterday. For the first few hours after their disappearance, I did not worry. However, as time dragged on without contact, my concern grew. Was something wrong? Why did both of my friends vanish around the same time? Were they planning something? Decoding Sapnap and George's whereabouts without clues was futile. Until their return, locating this morning's breakfast would quell my nerves.

Preparing to leave my apartment, I tied a plain white bandana behind my head. Face coverings during the coronavirus pandemic provided an ideal excuse to conceal my identity in public without drawing attention. Each time a fan recognized me presented an opportunity for someone to reveal my face to the world. While profoundly uncomfortable, I would dip my head politely and accept supportive comments; friendly fans were perfectly acceptable, but on paranoid days I regularly checked behind me to ensure no one followed my return to the apartment, a home hidden in plain sight.

Today, my hunger for breakfast exceeded my paranoia.

Every room in my apartment was empty except for my cat Patches, who slept soundly on the white carpet in a ray of sunshine. Leaving the house before humidity filled the air was ideal, but waking up late meant the blazing sun was already high in the sky. Although I wore nothing more than a t-shirt, cargo shorts, and Jesus sandals, the late summer heat brought sweat to my skin. Autumn was close, and I longed for the seasonal break from sweltering temperatures.

Hungry but unhurried, I navigated the Orlando streets toward my favorite cafe. With a growling stomach, I paid little attention to my surroundings and casually held my smartphone in one hand. With the cafe in my sights, I listened absently to the bustling city.

Unexpected wetness touched my palm, startling me. Gasping, I dragged myself into reality when my hand squeezed to clutch only emptiness. My phone! Whipping around to see who or what had taken it, I suspected a pickpocket, but found myself staring wide-eyed at a Rottweiler. The dog was large and muscular with black and brown fur; a neon green collar embellished its neck as it stood near the entrance to an alleyway with a dumpster. My phone, luckily unscatched, dangled from its jaws.

At first, I tensed, ready to defend myself, but the dog's eyes sparkled with playfulness, not malice.

"Hey, boy... or girl," I cooed. Kneeling, I extended a hand toward the dog as I would toward my cat Patches. "Can I have my phone back, please? I need it."

Lowering its head as if to drop the phone, the Rottweiler suddenly spun and raced down the alleyway.

"Wait, come back!" I hissed, launching myself after the dog. While I could afford a new phone, I had no intention of losing this one. I tailed the Rottweiler down the alleyway until its dark pelt disappeared into the shadows. As soon as I passed the dumpster, I slowed and stopped: a grave mistake.

From behind the dumpster, many hands seized me, skillfully restraining my wrists behind my back. I gasped, but no opportunity to scream for help arose as fingers pulled down my bandana and forcefully pressed a thick, damp rag into my face. I struggled valiantly against my unseen attackers until an odd smell burned the sensitive flesh of my nostrils. Abrupt nausea overwhelmed me. Vision swimming, I lost the feeling in my legs and collapsed backwards.

Less than twenty seconds passed between a normal day and sudden unconsciousness.

I was a hostage.


	2. Enemy

*Content warnings: mild language, confinement, sexism*

~Dream~

Ringing ears, a pounding headache, and a growling stomach accompanied my return to consciousness. Lifting my head, I struggled to clear my blurry vision.

Low-lit, filthy concrete walls of a small room greeted me, a sight I should have expected upon waking from a kidnapping. Musty air caught in my lungs, thick and chilly; hairs rose along my neck and arms.

Waves of pain tormented my head, gradually waning as I regained my senses. When I attempted to stretch my arms and legs, the wrists and ankles tugged against tight mechanical handcuffs which secured me to a small wooden chair.

Movement alerted me that I was not alone in the room. Two figures sat in identical wooden chairs, facing me at opposite angles to form a triangle. Clearly, they had been awake already and waited patiently for my revival. Both appeared around my age, one with fluffy, light brown hair and the other with short, dark brown hair. If I had not deciphered already that I was not dreaming, I would have believed I were: the concurrent presence of these people was impossible.

Simultaneously, my disappeared friends and I recognized each other.

"Wait, George? Sapnap?" My disbelieving voice, hoarse from lack of use, echoed faintly against the walls of the room.

"Dream?" Sapnap's eyes widened.

"Dream, what the hell are you doing here?" George gaped.

"I don't know what's going on." Disoriented, I shook my head. "Someone jumped me in the street and knocked me out." Our kidnappings were not random. How did they even find me? I wondered.

"Dude, me, too!" Sapnap gasped. "I was buying groceries and some people threw me in a van!"

"Right, so, what's all this, then?" George tugged on the wrist restraints. "We're trapped in a room with only one light, it's cold and dirty as hell, my head hurts, I'm hungry..."

"Did someone grab you, too?" I interrupted his complaining.

"Yeah," George sighed. "I was walking my dog and..." He gasped, brown eyes lighting with sudden outrage. "If they hurt my dog, I'll kill them."

"Your dog is safe." A new voice, deep, older, and male shocked us into silence. I heard a door shut behind me.

George, Sapnap, and I swiveled our heads toward the voice's source. My friends' eyes focused on a spot behind me, and their shoulders tensed. Breath caught in my throat.

"I'm Dr. Mendesa," the voice introduced themselves. With a mellow, yet foreboding tone, they continued, "Not a medical doctor, but I am a scientist."

"Why did you bring us here?" Sapnap challenged.

"Good question." Dr. Mendesa responded. "I have someone very special for you three to meet." I heard shuffling. The door swung open again. "Be gentlemen to her. I'm listening."

"Thank you, father," a new voice, younger and female, quietly thanked the first. He muttered an inaudible reply and remained in the room, still out of my sight.

High heels clacked on the floor as the second person approached our triangle.

"Hello, Dream, George, and Sapnap." Their greeting was oddly respectful. "I'm a big fan. It's amazing to meet you three in person."

"Thanks, but why are we here?" Again, Sapnap asked for an explanation, hoping that a fan would be open to express information.

"I'm Jazzie. I wanted to speak with you, and my father helped out."

The second mystery figure revealed themselves, stepping past me to reveal a girl around eighteen years of age. She stood upright, but appeared to force her confident smile. Something was wrong; while Jazzie blushed and hid her flustered smile with a palm, her dominating father seemed more attracted to us than the poor girl was.

"My father knew I was a fan," the girl admitted. "I shouldn't have told him about you three. He gets too interested in my crushes, so he brought you here." She smiled wryly. "Sorry I couldn't stop him."

"I'm very protective of my little girl," Dr. Mendesa butted in to defend himself from his daughter's apologetic statement. "When one or two of you become fathers, you'll understand. I don't want boys hurting her; most are too thick-skulled and sex-starved to treat little girls like ladies."

Nervously Sapnap, George, and I glanced at each other as Dr. Mendesa ranted,

"Females don't like nice guys. They want assholes with muscles and good looks. Only a man who I select can be fit for my daughter." Proudly he added, "Since Jazzie was little, I assured I would only let her date the best, not some loser her fifteen-year-old mind thought had cute enough hair to call him her soulmate." He nodded toward us. "When Jazzie showed interest in some men who aren't sacks of garbage, I couldn't ship you three here fast enough."

Our confusion morphed to anxiety. Was that why we were here, for this psychopath to force us to date his daughter? Jazzie lowered her head with humiliation, and I nearly felt sympathetic. Except her father kidnapped us; we don't owe anyone sympathy!

"Jazzie's radar for boys is not the best," Dr. Mendesa admitted, raising both hands in self-defense. "But my baby girl gets what she wants despite that innocent feminine stupidity. Generosity makes a good father."

The man receded once more into the shadows of the room for surveillance, and Jazzie returned. With misty eyes and a trembling bottom lip, she appeared as though she might cry. However, when she spoke, her voice was strong.

"My father already said it," she stated flatly. Her eyes were miserable, and her tone echoed the monotony of memorized lines. "I've loved you three for months. I understand you're all single, ready for a good girl to enter your life."

Blinking at each other, Sapnap, George, and I maintained our embarrassed silence as she approached.

"Sapnap," she began, slowly leaning forward so that her face was less than an arm's length from his. My friend edged backwards instinctively, visibly uncomfortable with the sudden attention. "Will you accept me as your girlfriend?"

"Well, you know," he stammered. Flustered and blushing, he shifted his feet and clenched both restrained fists. "Everyone goes through some hard times, and obviously there's a lot going on in your life. I don't think adding a relationship would help you out. You need some independence."

Might I also recommend a few decades of therapy? I thought, though I held my tongue instead of offering the scathing remark. Jazzie was merely a dedicated fan with a father who involved himself too deeply in her love life.

"Oh, okay, I understand," Jazzie sighed. Standing upright again, she continued to George, who pursed his lips in anticipation of the request. "George, what about you? I promise I'll cook, clean, do everything for you... I would be a perfect girlfriend."

"That sounds wonderful, but I think I'll have to pass, too," George swallowed. Thinking fast, he added with an imploring look, "There's more to life than relationships and you should be more than a sidekick. Don't insult yourself by reducing your value to girlfriend material."

Dr. Mendesa narrowed his eyes as both of my friends politely declined his daughter's requests for a relationship. I resisted the urge to scoff aloud. The answers they gave were safe, but wouldn't solidify in the delusional minds of the girl and her father. As she approached me, I readied myself to refuse more plainly.

"Dream." Jazzie's eyes widened with awe as she faced me. Locks of wavy brown hair tumbled over her shoulders as she leaned toward me. Like Sapnap, I edged away slightly. "So this is your face reveal. You're cute! Why don't you show the world?"

"I don't want to," I muttered stubbornly. Paranoia gripped me as her eyes traversed my face, then body.

"Oh, come on," Jazzie's father rolled his eyes from the sidelines. "Do you know how many girls obsess over you?" That's not the point, I wanted to say. Ignoring my awkwardly shifting feet, he continued with a wink, "Including Jazzie."

My short temper snapped. "I can't believe you brought us all the way here just to make us date your daughter's crusty ass. You could've harvested our organs or sold us to the black market for a ton of money." Ignoring the warning glares from Sapnap and George, I taunted Jazzie sarcastically, "But no, your daddy spent thousands of dollars on gamer boyfriends who play Minecraft all day."

"You're so full of yourself, aren't you?" Jazzie's father accused me. "Apologize and pull your head out of your ass, or you'll regret it."

"I already regret chasing that stupid dog," I replied harshly. "I could've bought another phone and I wouldn't be here. You're not getting an apology from me."

Silence fell over the room. Jazzie broke eye contact and stared at the floor. Her father remained on the sidelines, eyeing me with plain animosity.

"I suspected one of you would be foolish enough to reject my offer." His sharp gaze focused on me. Turning to Jazzie, he instructed, "Leave the room, honey. Your job is done."

"Okay," she whispered before scurrying away, obviously devastated.

"George and Sapnap," the man addressed my friends. "Thank you for refusing her gently. You behaved as true gentlemen. I respect that."

George and Sapnap blinked with bewilderment, unsure whether to accept the compliment. My heartbeat quickened and throat dried at the absence of my name in the man's speech. Clearly, I would pay for my hostility. Bring it on, I willed, steeling myself. At my forced display of confidence, the man warned,

"Anything you do to my daughter, I will do to you, Dream. Treat her like an animal, and I'll treat you the same." His callous gaze swept the three of us. "Your restraints will unlock automatically. Get comfortable, because you're spending the night here." Exiting the room, he threw departing words in a singsong voice over his shoulder, "Good night, boys! Sweet dreams. Tomorrow is a big day."

I suppressed a shudder at the unmistakable threat. Don't show weakness, I coached myself.

As Dr. Mendesa promised, the moment the door closed, the mechanical handcuffs which restrained George, Sapnap, and me to our wooden chairs unlocked. All six sets of wrist and ankle restraints clattered to the concrete floor. Standing for the first time since arriving at this unknown location, we rose and stretched. Closing the gaps between us, we initiated a group hug, bowing our heads in unison and wrapping our arms around each other's shoulders. Together, we sighed, grateful to see each other safe.

"I was worried about you guys," I confessed.

"I got here first, and I've never been so damn scared," Sapnap added.

"That was crazy," George agreed. "Let's never do it again."

"We probably smell so bad, too," Sapnap laughed as our group hug untangled and we faced each other.

"Probably?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"You do!" George smirked at him, earning a friendly punch in the shoulder from Sapnap.

Turning, I anticipated a fourth concrete wall which, unexpectedly, was instead clear plexiglass; behind lay a wide corridor resembling the smooth gray hallway of a hospital. A metallic door connected our prison-like cell to the corridor.

"Where are we?" Stepping away from my friends, I twisted the door handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. When our eyes met again, their expressions mirrored my confusion.

"I don't know," Sapnap confessed, crossing his arms.

"We tried to figure it out before you woke up, but we're not sure," George explained, stuffing both hands into his pockets. "And now that we've said no to dating, I can't think of how long we'll be here."

"Maybe they'll say," I sighed unsurely, running my fingers through my hair.

Motion from the corridor startled us. A small, timid assistant appeared, wearing all white. They pulled a silver metal cart, halting beside a small square opening in the plexiglass against the floor.

"Stay back, please," the assistant instructed, but their command did not contain any of Dr. Mendesa's authority or arrogance. Regardless, Sapnap, George, and I obeyed their request and remained still.

"What is that?" I asked politely, trying to compensate for my prior aggression in case Dr. Mendesa was watching us somehow.

"Dinner."

Efficiently the assistant moved three water bottles and three ceramic plates from their cart through the plexiglass opening and placed them on the concrete floor. Scents of hot food wafted into my nose; my mouth watered with anticipation. Once the assistant withdrew their hand for the final time, they departed, pushing the cart the same direction they came; the kitchen, and possibly a way out, must be in that direction.

With the assistant gone, Sapnap, George, and I sprang forward. Utensils accompanied the plates of food, permitting the three of us to wolf down leafy green vegetables, grilled chicken, and brown rice. None of us spoke as we knelt awkwardly together to devour our food and gulp the bottles of water. When finished, we returned the plates through the opening onto the tiled floor of the corridor.

No one else visited our room. Unable to discern the time, Sapnap, George, and I paced the area, discussing everything except our confinement until exhaustion compelled us to select one of three measly cots as our sleeping spot. The concrete cell also contained a toilet and sink; when one of us informed the others that we needed to do our thing, the other two politely faced away.

Sleep eluded us. Sapnap, George, and I fidgeted restlessly in our cots. Surely someone was monitoring the room, so planning an escape was dangerous with so many unknown variables. We did not know our location or whether our captor would willingly harm us to prevent our escape. "Treat her like an animal, and I'll treat you the same," Dr. Mendesa's vague threat troubled me. "Tomorrow is a big day." Freedom could come at a hefty price.


	3. Fear

*Content warnings: mild nsfw, mild language, needles/sharp objects, sexism*

~Dream~

Recovering from an uneasy sleep, my disheveled friends and I stretched and paced our concrete cell. One assistant brought breakfast and three bottles of water on a silver cart; they provided only two plates for Sapnap and George, with strict instructions from Dr. Mendesa that I not eat. Both George and Sapnap offered food from their plates after the assistant's departure, but I refused as a precaution against Dr. Mendesa's wrath.

The arrival of new assistants interrupted our group's murmured conversation; a hoard of them wore protective gear as they barged through the door, resembling a squad of militia.

"Who are you?" Sapnap questioned, too startled to protest when George instinctively hid behind him.

I stared, stepping backward defensively as the squad of assistants split into three groups to corner each of us. If they expected us to fight back, it meant something bad was going to happen.

"What's going on?" George questioned as the squad separated him from Sapnap and restrained our arms behind our backs.

"Let me go!" I growled, twisting in an effort to break free.

The swift wrapping of blindfolds around our heads silenced us. Unable to see our surroundings, we surrendered and stilled.

"Sapnap! George!" I called my friends names in a shaky voice.

"I'm here!" Sapnap breathed.

"Me, too," George added.

Satisfied that we would comply, the squad leader tapped our heels with their own.

"Come on, boys. We have somewhere to be."

Relying on our hearing and careful balance, my friends and I traveled with the squad from the concrete cell down the hallway. Counting my footsteps, I noted our path; though I did not know if we would return to the cell, sensing our location's layout would be crucial to escape.

Murmurs between my friends drifted to my ears.

"George," Sapnap whispered. "You look hot from this angle."

"What?" George hissed with outrage. "You can't even see me!"

"Exactly," Sapnap giggled. "Not seeing your face is such a turn-on."

George scoffed. Despite the tense mood, I wheezed with laughter; the assistants guiding us chuckled to themselves as well. At least not everyone hates us here.

When an opportunity to run did not come, my mind wandered as the squad led us down the maze-like corridors. Why did Dr. Mendesa instruct me not to eat breakfast? The reason must be more than pettiness, leaving me hungry while my friends ate. Aren't surgery patients supposed to fast before anesthesia? I wondered, suppressing a shudder.

"Dream," George piped up. Signalling the grave shift in mood, his voice was soft with sincerity. "You're in a difficult spot, but we're here for you."

"Yeah, dude," Sapnap supported. "If anyone tries to mess with you, they'll have to get through us first."

"Thanks, guys," I accepted. As long as my friends and I remained together, everything would be okay. Suppressing my fear for our safety, I promised in return, "Same goes for you. We're in this together and we'll leave this together."

The low sound of a door opening and a light gust of air on my cheeks indicated our arrival in a new room. Distance separated the three of us as each group of militia guided the hostages apart; my nerves grew as George and Sapnap's footsteps lessened. The squad seated my friends together, apart from me. I heard the faint creaking of bodies sitting down in wooden chairs, then the clicking of mechanical handcuffs; anticipating more restraints, I groaned inwardly. Instead of seating me in a chair, however, the assistants beside me instructed,

"There's a stretcher to your right. Lay down."

I hesitated, then yielded. "Okay." A hard surface with smooth, rounded corners brushed the outside of my right thigh. My heart skipped a beat; laying down made me vulnerable. Breathing in deep, I complied. With the assistance of the squad, I boarded the stretcher, resting flat on the soft, padded center. One assistant tied stirrups around my wrists and ankles while another removed my blindfold.

Eager to view my surroundings, my eyes flew open, and instantly squeezed shut against the bright lights from the ceiling. When I turned my head to the left, I saw Sapnap and George similarly dazed and blinking. We were in a larger room than the cell, with white tiled floors, walls, and ceilings. When I turned my head to the right, a large stage curtain's silky red fabric contrasted starkly against the room's featureless white walls.

A familiar male voice greeted us.

"Good morning, boys."

Lifting my head, I stared awkwardly down the length of my body as a pair of double doors opened in the far corner of the room. Dr. Mendesa strode forward in a casual buttoned shirt and black pants, well-rested and pleased at the sight of his hostages. His daughter Jazzie followed in a simple pink t-shirt with blue jeans, sullen and visibly weary.

Directing his gaze toward my two friends, Dr. Mendesa asked, "How are you both this morning?"

"Fine, I guess," Sapnap shrugged. "Kind of want a shower, though."

"I'm all tied up," George grumbled. "I'll take some sleep."

"Hey." My casual greeting was ironic as I lay bound before the man. Jazzie looked my way with an apprehensive, but polite nod; her father was less friendly.

"Dream." Approaching me, he extended a hand to toy with my hair, brushing it out of my face. Annoyed, I sniffed as he asked, "How about that rude attitude toward Jazzie and me last night? I'm a reasonable man, so I'll give you a chance to apologize, and even a count of three to gather your thoughts." Holding up three fingers, he counted dramatically, "One, two..."

"Absolutely... not." I mocked the comical pause after 'two'. Sapnap smirked proudly across the room, while George's expression darkened with concern.

Narrowing his dark brown eyes, Dr. Mendesa nodded as if he anticipated my defiance. Addressing all three of us, he announced,

"As I said last night, today is a big day. You've met a few of my assistants and guards." He nodded to the group who wore protective gear standing beside the hostages. "My company funds science for military purposes. Don't ask about our name or nationality; we're top secret."

Our eyebrows raised. They're rich, I realized. Money in the wrong hands permitted all sorts of danger.

"What kind of scientists?" George engaged.

"Military purposes for war?" Sapnap questioned.

"Details are private," Dr. Mendesa acknowledged. "I appreciate your curiosity, George and Sapnap, but neither of you will experience any technology first-hand." Glancing at me, he smirked deviously. "We believe it's effective, but only a test subject will prove it."

That's me. Terror sent adrenaline through my blood. Nausea overwhelmed me, and my head pounded. Sapnap and George stared with horror, realizing why my stretcher resided so far from them. What kind of operation might I undergo? What torture might I endure, and for what sadistic purpose?

"Why did you need all three of us, then?" Sapnap asked. "I get that you want Dream, but why George and me?"

"Jazzie thought you three would be happier together," Dr. Mendesa shrugged. "I don't mind. Actually, it makes everything easier for me." Pausing, he changed the subject, "George and Sapnap, you wouldn't insult my little girl, would you?"

Frightened, they shook their heads. I remained still except for trembling hands. Whatever you're going to do, get it over with, I wanted to plead. I can't handle the suspense!

"Thank you," the man dipped his head graciously. With a menacing glare, he hissed to me, "I have a question for you, too: what do you find attractive in a woman, Dream?"

When silence filled the room, I realized it was not a rhetorical question.

"Respect is pretty hot," I replied after some thought. Venturing further, I added, "As in, not kidnapping me and forcing me to date them."

He did not appreciate the brazen answer.

"Liar," Dr. Mendesa scoffed dubiously. "I've heard about the music you three listen to. 'I Wanna See Some Ass' and 'WAP'?" He spat with disgust, "You're probably into those slutty pinheads who follow you online. Sexuality turns boys into dogs." His aggression took us aback. Pained at her father's words, Jazzie winced and closed her eyes.

"So that's a no for feminism, then?" Sapnap muttered.

"Have you ever wondered what life would be like as a dog?" Dr. Mendesa ignored my friend's derisive comment. A sudden smile and wink sent chills up my spine. "To live as an animal, dependent on others for food and love and freedom?"

Shy at the vague, threatening rant, the three of us shook our heads.

"I thought you might say that." Turning to his daughter, who had not yet spoken, Dr. Mendesa instructed, "Jazzie, leave us alone, honey."

"But I can -" The girl's eyes flew open, bright with protest.

"Go," her father snapped harshly. "I shouldn't have to tell you twice."

"Sorry." Jazzie shrank back. Biting her lip, her shoulders hunched and she scurried away, fleeing out the double doors. Over her shoulder, her gaze swept Sapnap, George, and me, filled with apprehension; whatever was going to happen, she knew what it was, and was scared for us.

With the last unwilling witness gone, Dr. Mendesa pulled a smartphone from his pocket. Tapping the screen, he mumbled into the microphone, "Drop the curtain."

On cue, the large red curtain to my right fell, revealing a massive machine. Its surface was hideous; circuit boards, nails, buttons, and levers littered the metallic panels. A small computer screen lay on one end, adding one recognizable thing to the mess. In the center of the machine sat a cube of plexiglass with a snugly fit glass door on one side, the size of a wide doorway.

A new assistant emerged from the double doors, wearing a white medical coat and carrying a small briefcase. I remained silent with a pounding heart, twitching fingers, and dry throat as they approached, passing Dr. Mendesa to stand above my right side in full view of the hostages. When they opened the briefcase, I expected alcohol swabs, bandages, and gauze. Instead, inside lay a single syringe full of an unidentifiable, clear fluid. My stomach dropped and fists clenched.

"Wait, no!" Instantly I yearned to flee; my ankles yanked against the restraints. Was the liquid in the syringe dangerous? What would it do to me? What would they do to me?

My friends gasped, wide-eyed and slack-jawed with horror. Sapnap regained his voice first.

"Hey, get away from him!"

George joined in his defense of me. "What the hell is in that thing?"

I could not speak. I blinked up at the medical assistant, imploring them to reconsider. Blank-faced but determined, they returned my gaze. My fear did not concern them.

"Feeling dizzy?" Dr. Mendesa sneered. My fear entertained him.

"Relax your arm," they instructed. With one gloved hand, they clutched my wrist, flipping over the forearm to reveal the artery in my elbow.

"No, please don't," I rasped, surrendering my bravado. I tried to shake my head, but it trembled instead. My feet shuddered vigorously. Sweat soaked under my arms.

Raising the syringe with both lightning speed and painful slowness, the assistant gently tapped the side to expel the tiny oxygen bubbles gathered at the top of the vial. No, no, no, I wanted to moan as they lowered it to inject me.

The syringe's needle punctured my arm with deadly precision, depositing its unknown contents into my bloodstream. Within seconds, black spots filled my vision. Sensations of falling knocked the air from my lungs.

"Leave him alone!" George.

"You'll be okay, Dream!" Sapnap.

"Lights out, pretty boy." Someone.

My friends' desperate calls muddled into a sea of white noise. The room swam before me, blurring the silhouettes of the assistant and Dr. Mendesa above me. I turned my head to the left, discerning the faint outlines of George and Sapnap against a bright white background. If I passed, I wanted the last people I saw to be my allies, not my killers.

Utter helplessness concluded my mind's activity as I slipped into unconsciousness, wondering when I would wake up... if I woke up at all.


	4. Change

**Content warning: mild nsfw, mild gore, mild language, kidnapping**

~George~

"Dream, wake up!"

"Stop touching him!"

Sapnap and I shouted in defense of Dream as the medical assistant replaced the empty syringe into the briefcase, snapped the latch shut, and departed. The militia squad swooped in to untie Dream's ankle and wrist restraints; he did not react.

"The mighty Dream has fallen," Dr. Mendesa announced triumphantly. With a sweeping gesture, he waved a hand over our friend's unconscious body. "All it took was some serious canine anesthesia."

Leaving our side, the squad of militia surrounded the stretcher and rolled it away, exiting through the double doors to leave only Dr. Mendesa, Sapnap, and me in the room.

"Where are you taking him?" Worry for the anesthesia's purpose surpassed my relief that the injection was not deadly.

"You'll see," Dr. Mendesa responded vaguely. "My assistants are preparing him for the operation."

Sapnap and I trained our eyes on the double doors, watching intently for movement to signal our friend's return. The room remained silent as Dr. Mendesa's phone occupied his attention. Sapnap and I shifted in our chairs, helpless to do anything but wait.

Several minutes passed before medical assistants in white coats exited the double doors, pulling the stretcher between them. Initially, I did not realize that the naked man upon it was Dream.

"Oh my god, where are his clothes?" Sapnap exclaimed.

"We'll keep his belongings safe until he has a chance to get them back," Dr. Mendesa assured. Smirking, he added, "We'll even charge his phone." How considerate, I thought sarcastically.

Though Dream was unconscious and had no idea of his nudity, giving privacy seemed polite nevertheless. Sapnap and I glanced awkwardly at each other before lowering our gazes to where our feet shuffled on the tiled floor. The naked hostage did not daunt the medical assistants, however, as they unlocked the side door of the machine. Rolling Dream's stretcher inside, they lifted his limp body and placed it on the floor in the plexiglass cube's center. They exited, locked, and sealed the door.

Sapnap and I anticipated our friends demise as Dr. Mendesa approached the machine and ordered his assistants to pull levers, push buttons, check wires, and code the computer. Turning to us, the man reported with discernible passion,

"It's ready." As the assistants finished their work, Dr. Mendesa advised to Sapnap and me, "You might want to close your eyes."

A faint whirring emanated from the machine as it powered on. Dr. Mendesa sprinted out through the double doors with the assistants following, presumably to watch from another room.

Suddenly, the lights in our room dimmed. Perhaps a power generator redirected electricity to the machine, because as the lights shining in the bright white room went down, a light from inside the machine and grew. Brightening by the second, the plexiglass cube filled with blinding blue light.

Squeezing our eyes shut, Sapnap and I faced away. I groaned, wincing at the strength of the beam. Despite my intense worry and curiosity of what was happening to my friend, I could not physically bear to watch as it felt like the blue light pierced through my own flesh.

"What's going on? It's so bright!" Sapnap shouted to me, struggling to vocalize above the low rumbling and high-pitched whirring of the machinery.

"I don't know!" I shrieked. "I'm not looking!"

When the blue light faded, I hesitated to open my eyes. With a quaking stomach, I inhaled sharply. A faint odor, smelling like organs, hung in the air. Finally, I looked, and immediately wished I had not.

No sign of Dream remained.

"Where is he?" Sapnap's voice trembled.

I squinted, barely discerning a person-sized lump with an odd, spiky texture, laying on the stretcher precisely where Dream vanished.

"What is that?" I gasped.

The double doors opened, and Dr. Mendesa strode out joyously.

"Why don't you see for yourselves? It worked!"

As he spoke, several medical assistants hurried from the double doors to unseal, unlock, and enter the glass chamber in the machine's center. Sapnap and I watched with baited breath as they carefully inspected the lump before removing the stretcher from the cube. Their eyes were wide with astonishment; they did not expect this outcome, either.

Chills coursed up my spine as the medical assistants dragged the lump across the white-tiled floor and piled it at Sapnap's and my feet. We straightened in our chairs, craning our necks to observe the remnants of Dream. If not for our profound shock at his disappearance, we might have screamed and cried for our lost friend.

"Is that a wolf?"

White-tipped gray fur covered the body of a massive canine. A large head with triangular ears and a pointed snout emerged from one end, while a thick, fluffy tail hung from the other. When one assistant tilted the head to face our direction, sharp teeth emerged from dark gray gums. Its black-rimmed eyes were closed. The creature breathed faintly, but its four long, stocky legs did not move.

"Boys, say hello to Dream's new body," Dr. Mendesa introduced.

"That's Dream?" I questioned dubiously.

"Dude, that's a wolf," Sapnap agreed, pointing out the obvious.

"He's a dog," the man corrected. "But it is Dream. He'll wake up soon enough."

"Can we change him back?" Sapnap asked.

"Of course," Dr. Mendesa shrugged. "The technology isn't meant to last forever, at least not for a few hours. As time goes on, however, this form may become permanent for him."

"No, how do we change him back?" I questioned frantically, parting tufts of the wolf's thick white fur to inspect the flesh beneath. Indeed, this dog before us was a real, living being.

"You two are smart. You'll work it out." Dr. Mendesa's taunts reflected his amusement at our helplessness.

"Why should we trust you?"

"Only my company and I know how to reverse the transformation," Dr. Mendesa assured. "If you do change him back before time is up, I'll release you three with no questions asked. As I said, I'm reasonable."

"When is time up?" Sapnap asked, determined to beat the deadline.

"You have twenty-four hours, give or take a few minutes." He shrugged. "We're still perfecting the technology." He shrugged. "The military would be interested in purchasing it once we decide how well it works."

"Is there a clue for how to change him back?" I pressed. Dr. Mendesa's unreliable information frustrated me.

He narrowed his eyes with consideration, before he replied grudgingly, "Alright. You would be incredibly unlucky, or stupid, to change him back before twenty-four hours are up."

"Will you really let us go if we change him back?" Sapnap challenged him.

"Yes," the man vowed. "I want you boys to become men, and I guarantee you three will not leave my company before becoming different people inside."

His ominous words and menacing tone sent shivers up my spine. Would we have to commit some awful act to change our friend back?

"Now," Dr. Mendesa interrupted our swirling thoughts, rubbing his palms together with anticipation as a few assistants approached. The group carried a small black device and a large blue backpack: my backpack. "This is a burner phone." He introduced as one assistant unzipped slipped the device inside one of the backpack's pockets. "This lets us communicate with you, so don't let it get destroyed." He winked. "We'll track your progress."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"A boy who disrespects my little girl is a perfect test subject." Dr. Mendesa was prepared for the question. "I feel no guilt."

"Why Dream, though?" Sapnap added. "There are plenty of dumbass guys you could've kidnapped with no consequences."

"True, but there's no thrill in kidnapping the low-lifes my daughter is interested in. Pulling a famous internet celebrity right off the street is much more exciting." Changing the subject, he instructed his assistants, "Blindfolds."

Assistants lifted the blindfolds from Sapnap's and my necks, tying them around our eyes before unlocking the mechanical handcuffs from the chairs.

"Is Dream coming with us?"

"Of course," Dr. Mendesa confirmed. "The canine anesthetic wears off in thirty minutes. You'll be out of here by the time he wakes up." Those were the last words he spoke to us.

After being guided from our chairs and traversing the maze-like corridors of the building, we recognized the aromas of a vehicle's gas tank and velvety upholstery. The squad of militia loaded Sapnap and me into the back seat of a van and piled the wolf's body on top.

Powering to life, the van launched forward. Clutching tufts of the wolf's fur in both hands, I feared he might slide off without a seatbelt. Although no restraints bound us, I suspected the company knew we would not try to escape with Dream's canine body draped vulnerably across Sapnap's and my laps. They know we won't leave him.

Thirty minutes passed as we drove in the car, but the journey felt longer. When the van's back doors opened, assistants dragged the canine off our laps before guiding Sapnap and me onto solid ground. Cool, damp air hit my skin and the smell of exhaust filled my nostrils. Hands upon our shoulders pressured us to kneel to the hard, cracked surface below, firmly holding our wrists behind our backs to discourage a premature escape.

The grip on our wrists vanished. Footsteps departed from our sides. The squad of militia fled the scene, and I heard the van's doors close after its occupants boarded. Sapnap and I whipped off our blindfolds, lifting our heads as the van sped away before we could read the license plate number.

Our team occupied an alleyway, staring upwards at brick walls stretching into the sky, alone with two humans and a wolf-dog. Suddenly, everything was quiet except for a whistling breeze. We were alone.

As Dr. Mendesa and his company predicted, the wolf's body roused beneath us. Twenty-four hours to change Dream back, I remembered. Our race against time had begun, and we were completely unprepared.


	5. Consciousness

**Content warning: mild language**

*23 hours remain*

~Sapnap~

George and I hunched over the dog's unconscious body. An ear flicked, whiskers bristled along its muzzle, and the movement of its chest quickened. It's waking up. Finally, its eyes blinked open, revealing brilliant teal irises.

"Dream?" Still disbelieving that this wolf-like creature was my friend, I hesitated to utter his name. Despite the dog's strange appearance, too large and wild-looking for a pet, my friend's mind in its head was unfathomable.

To my amazement, the dog's body tensed. I inhaled sharply when its sharp gaze focused on me. The creature's lips drew backward, sending adrenaline into my blood; if this were not my friend, it could flay me within moments.

Groaning, the dog stretched its legs, then flicked its tail. Struggling to move as the canine anesthetic wore off, the dog slowly heaved itself upwards. George and I edged back, giving the creature space in anticipation of our friend's discovery that he no longer possessed a human body.

Right on cue as it stood fully on four legs, the dog glanced downwards... and panicked. Its face shot up again to stare at George and me, yipping frantically. Fear widened its eyes as the dog glanced over its shoulder to view its lashing tail.

"Wait, chill, it's okay -" In vain, I attempted to reassure the frightened creature.

Shifting unsteadily on its limbs, the dog barked at full volume. George and I winced, covering our ears at the deafening sound.

"Woah, it's alright." George's voice was low and reassuring, but his hands trembled with dismay as he cautiously stroked the dog's fur. Once it calmed down, the dog blinked at us with bewilderment.

"Is that you, Dream?" I asked politely. "Can you prove it to us?"

"I don't know," George hesitated. What question could we ask the dog to prove it was Dream in a canine body? After a moment of thought, George quizzed, "Dream, if that's you, tell me what you did last night."

Understanding the need to prove his identity, Dream extended a paw to draw letters on the concrete.

UR MOM

"It is you!" Leaning forward, I embraced my friend and grasped his shoulders, running fingers through the thick pelt to meet warm flesh beneath. My friend whined, wondering why he could not convey his thoughts with coherent words.

"Dr. Mendesa's machine turned you into a dog," George explained shakily. When Dream glanced backwards to view his new body a second time, he added, "They said we have to change you back in under twenty-four hours."

"How long has it been?" I asked.

"It's on the phone." Removing his backpack, George searched its contents and drew out the burner phone from the company. "Dr. Mendesa said it tracks us, and he'll communicate through it." Tapping the keys, he read, "About twenty-three hours left."

Dream's ears flattened when George and I stood from our kneeling positions to leave the musty alleyway.

"Get used to being short." My warning was humorous as we stared down at our friend.

Standing fully, Dream was still massive: one meter tall at the shoulder. His pelt's white-tipped gray fur added softness to his wolf-like appearance. However, instead of a wolf's wary yellow gaze, Dream's teal eyes glowed with unnatural intelligence and perceptiveness.

"Do we need masks?" I consulted George.

"Yeah, I have some clean ones." Balancing the blue backpack on his knee, he rummaged through the main compartment and pulled out two cloth masks. "Sapnap, check if there's anyone around."

Creeping from the shadows, I popped my head past the white brick wall. Our alleyway branched off a narrow street. Tall, painted shops and apartments towered above my head while several cars lay dormant along the curbs. Few pedestrians occupied the sidewalks and the curtains above were closed, creating a perfect spot for unloading human cargo.

"It's clear," I announced over my shoulder. George followed before we glanced backwards at the dog. Despite his usual confidence, Dream hesitated and glanced down at his paws. Experimentally he stepped forward, testing his new body before trotting forward.

Emerging from the alleyway, two humans and one human in a dog's body entered the sidewalk. With Dream in the lead, we turned toward a busier street a few dozen meters ahead. Though none of us knew which city we inhabited, George and I squared our shoulders and wore self-assured expressions to look like we did.

Reaching the well-lit street ahead, Dream slowed. George and I caught up, shielding our eyes against rays of afternoon sunlight to observe white-painted buildings, mild traffic, blue sky, leafy green trees, and a faintly glittering body of water in the distance down one sloping street.

"Wait, what the hell?" George gaped. "We're in Brighton! This is my neighborhood!"

"You mean those assholes flew Dream and me out of the country?" I glared with disbelief. When I listened to the chatter of nearby pedestrians, distinctly British accents hit my ears; George was right. "I can't believe they smuggled me and I didn't realize: I would've enjoyed the thrill if I knew."

Dream chuffed with laughter, but I suspected our location astonished him, too.

"I can't believe they kidnapped me one kilometer," George complained. Assessing our surroundings, he recognized, "I know where we are!" Spinning, he approached the nearest traffic intersection toward where the sea shimmered on the horizon. "My apartment is this way. Let's plan ahead there." Beaming proudly, he blazed our trail with an upbeat stride.

"Let's go!" I applauded. Dream whistled with approval; he zoomed past George with a wagging tail.

Relieved to have a destination, George and I quieted as we considered our circumstances. Twenty-three hours remained for us to change Dream back into a human, yet we had no idea how. It's still plenty of time, I reassured myself, focusing instead on the unfamiliar city around me.

A busy street bustled to our right while a long row of shops and cafes sold items and served refreshments to patrons on our left. Large city buildings dominated the landscape, towering above us, full of people living their daily lives despite the pandemic. The sea shimmered on the horizon, occasionally sending a gentle breeze up the street to ruffle our hair and fur.

Meters ahead, Dream ambled forward, pausing frequently to sniff the air or assess our surroundings with his new canine senses. George and I kept him in our sight, but did not worry for our friend's safety. Although we passed several local dogs on leashes along our path, I did not noticed their behavior until a new dog stopped at the sight and scent of Dream. As if this unfamiliar dog sensed something peculiar about its brethren, its hackles lifted. Growling, the dog bared its teeth.

Dream stopped, leaving a gap between himself and the hostile canine; the creature's reaction caught him off guard. He stepped backwards, ducking to avoid creating a scene, but already pedestrians on the street had noticed. Bystanders watched with alarm. Our friend's pause allowed George and I to hurry forward and stand defensively beside Dream, nudging him to make a wide circle around the hostile animal and its bewildered owner.

"Sorry, guys, usually Rasputin's friendly!" They apologized, tugging on their pet's leash until the two could continue past us.

As the bystanders quickly lost interest, I leaned down to advise Dream softly,

"You should stick by us." Despite the suggestion, I was sure he loathed the idea of not being able to travel alone.

George lowered his voice, adding, "You don't have a collar, remember?"

Dream grunted, then halted with a chuff.

"What is it, Dream?" I knelt beside my friend.

After a glance over his shoulder showed we had fallen behind, George slowed in front of us. "What's wrong?" Though he meant to show concern, his tone was impatient.

"George, dude, he can't talk," I mocked. Returning my attention to Dream, I prodded curiously, "Why did you stop?"

Frustrated that neither of us understood, Dream shook out his fur. George and I followed his left-pointing snout to see a red-painted butcher shop. Chunks of dried meat hung in the clear windows. Savory odors wafted from the entrance. He's hungry, I realized sheepishly. Dream's transformation must have sapped his body of energy.

"I could eat, too," George agreed to our team's unspoken plan.

Dream sniffed with satisfaction. When we approached the door, however, I spotted the dreaded sign hanging in the window: "No Dogs Allowed".

"Wait here," I patted Dream's shoulder.

"What do you want?" Holding the door open for me, George asked for Dream's order.

Shifting his paws, Dream licked his lips eagerly. 'Anything' was the answer. Despite his disappointment at remaining outside, he sat on his haunches obediently by the butcher shop's entrance as George and I shut the door behind us.

Air-conditioning gusted in my face. Tables for two lined one white-tiled wall, faintly reflecting the sunlight streaming in from outside. Patrons conversed idly over sandwiches while clerks and cooks traversed from the front of the shop to the extensive kitchen in the back.

"I'll buy us sandwiches," George proposed as we surveyed the nearest glass display of fresh and cooked meats beneath the shop's hanging blackboard menu. Retrieving his wallet from his pocket, he glanced my way. "I don't think you can pay here."

"Oh, man, you're right," I realized. A Texas-based credit card suddenly spending money in the UK would be suspicious to my card company, and paper US dollars were worthless. "Sorry, George. I'll pay you back later -"

"Don't worry about it," he shrugged. With a sneaky smirk, he added, "You're the one who has to fly a million hours back home."

"I hate you," I muttered. Returning my attention to the menu before us, I mused, "Think Dream could eat a whole stick of salami?"

"No, idiot," George rolled his eyes. "I'm buying him a sandwich, too."

Watching us from behind the counter, a shop clerk greeted politely,

"Can I help you?"

"Hello," George nodded, leading me to the display case to order three sandwiches. "- and for the third sandwich, can I get the deluxe meat lover's, please?"

Suppressing a snort of laughter, I stared at George; he suppressed an amused smile. After paying, George and I waited nonchalantly for our sandwiches as Dream peered through the window, listening with his triangular ears pricked. Patrons in the butcher shop noticed; a couple pointed toward the exit, murmuring about the strange creature whose glittering teal eyes appeared far more perceptive and cunning than the average dog's.

When the shop clerk presented our sandwiches, George and I waved casually and departed, carrying a heavy paper bag. As we exited, Dream leapt from a sitting position with an ecstatic yelp and wagging tail.

"Alright, let's go to my flat," George decided, removing the sandwiches from the bag. Leaning down, he presented Dream's sandwich so our friend could snatch it from his hand. "It's not far."

Eating as we navigated the Brighton streets, George and I kept pace with Dream. George's watch ticked past 4pm as the sun sank into the horizon, leaving the sky a dusky blue color as the late summer air cooled. Dream's presence noticeably upset the local dogs, I observed with benign entertainment; no matter the breed or size, they swerved deliberately to avoid our friend, much to their owners' confusion.

Approaching a large intersection where early evening traffic crowded the road, George and I looked both ways. Dream slowed to wait at the edge of the sidewalk, shifting on his paws with visible fatigue.

"Let's cross," George guided. Shivering against the cooling weather, I shoved both hands into my pockets. When the light changed, we stepped forward, squinting against the sun in our eyes.

Finally, we reached the flat: one of many identical, square apartments lining the ocean-side outskirts of Brighton. I expected a wide space occupying one floor like apartments in the US. Instead, this living area occupied two floors, compensating for its narrow width with height.

"We're here." Rummaging through his backpack, George removed a set of keys and unlocked the front door. Our eyes adjusted to shadows inside the warm, compact living space until George flicked on the kitchen lights. On the couch lay the curled-up figure of his dog; her brown flank lifted as she snored, deep in sleep until the sudden brightness startled her awake.

"Hey, Dog," George cooed as the puppy bounded off the couch, tail wagging. Then, she spotted Dream, who returned her gaze levelly. Yelping with fright at the bulky, wolf-like creature, Dog fled into a separate room. "No, come back!" Glaring down at Dream between us, George scolded, "You scared her."

Dream whined a sincere apology. With a half-smile of forgiveness, George placed his backpack on the kitchen counter and emptied its contents. We settled down, adjusting to the flat before the ringing of George's personal cell phone disturbed the cozy atmosphere.

Alarmed, George lifted the phone from the counter. Whatever caller ID we expected to appear on the glowing smartphone's screen, Dream's Mum was not it.


	6. Disassembly

*21 hours remain*

~George~

Our horrified expressions troubled Dream, who yipped questioningly below us.

Turning on speakerphone, I answered, "Hello?"

An audible gasp resonated from the other end, as if the caller had not expected a response.

"Good morning, George." Swiftly recovering, a middle-aged female voice greeted me. Her humble tone held a strain of urgency. "Or, good afternoon, I think it is over there."

Recognizing his mother's voice, Dream's ears pricked and his tail wagged.

"Hello, Mrs. Dream," I stammered, clueless on how to address her. "Is everything alright?"

"No," she responded gloomily. "I haven't heard from my son, your friend, in days. His apartment is empty, except for Patches. I don't know where he is. You're far from Florida, but have you heard from him?"

Sapnap and I shared a panicked glance. What do I say? Dream gazed imploringly at me while Sapnap shook his head; I pouted with frustration at their contrasting answers. Chuffing softly, Dream resolved my uncertainty by frantically drawing letters on my hardwood floor with one paw.

SAY HI 4 ME

"Yes," I affirmed. "He's in Brighton with me; it was a surprise visit, so he didn't tell anyone." Gravitating from the truth, I added, "He's picking up dinner right now, but he'll return home in a couple of days." I hoped the promise would not become a lie. "He says hi."

"Oh, thank goodness," Dream's mother sighed with endless relief. "He's grown, so he can make his own decisions and take care of himself, but I was scared for him." Humorously she added, "He's a Florida man. It's the world who should be afraid of him."

Bristles around Dream's muzzle twitched with unspoken laughter.

"Thank you so much, George," Dream's mother expressed her gratitude. "I'll sleep better knowing he's with a friend." She joked, "Even a friend who tried to flirt with his mother."

Blushing, I scoffed, "No way." Sapnap turned away, pressing both palms into his mouth to avoid laughing aloud. Dream joined, throwing his fluffy head backwards and poking my shin with a paw.

"Alright, I'll let you get back to whatever fun you and my son are having together," Dream's mother stated decidedly. "He can be a handful. Reel him in if he needs it."

"Of course! I'll update you if anything happens."

"I appreciate that," she accepted graciously. "Have a good night, boys! Don't get too crazy."

"We won't," I promised, hanging up.

"Nice going, George," Sapnap commended after the call ended.

"I can't believe she called," I admitted. "I don't think I lied, though."

"You didn't," Sapnap acknowledged. "But who's going to tell her why he's actually here? What if she freaks out?"

As I placed my cell phone on the counter, silence filled my flat. Our uplifted mood became somber. Dream listened intently to our conversation, wishing he could vocalize his thoughts. He could not anticipate his mother's reaction to his condition, but he would not want her to discover him in a different body than she expected.

With a single phone call, Dream's mother raised the stakes. What if she never heard her son's voice again, or held his face in a form she recognized? How long do big dogs live, anyway? I wondered darkly. Even if he lived twenty years, an absurd length of time for Dream's canine body size, his family would still outlive him by decades. Dream's mother might experience the loss of her human son, then suffer whatever euthanasia would prevent her canine son from suffering at the end of his short lifespan.

Would Dream's mother wish to continue living at all if we failed? Realizing the answer, I knew we had to reverse the transformation.

*16 hours remain*

~George~

Night brought a cool, misty breeze from the sea, fluttering the curtains of my flat. Caution drove us to order a delivery of three deluxe pizzas to my doorstep; by 10pm, the empty cardboard boxes protruded awkwardly from the narrow rubbish bin in my kitchen. Sapnap and Dream relaxed on my couch after entertaining themselves with Dream's flexibility drinking water from the sink.

Accessing my WiFi, Sapnap tilted his phone screen so Dream could see. Despite the temptation to unwind with them, our race against the clock occupied my mind. Dr. Mendesa's burner phone displayed our time left until Dream's transformation became permanent. Maybe, it contained clues on how to change him back.

After organizing my kitchen and technological supplies, I transferred the burner phone to my office bedroom. Departing from the main area of my flat, I seated myself at my computer. Searching the internet, I located the phone's model and dumped screwdrivers, nuts, bolts, levers, and pliers from my toolkit onto the desk's surface. Carefully I removed the back of the burner phone to expose the inside.

Only my subconscious sensed my bedroom door creak open. I flinched when thick fur brushed my knees. Straightening, I pushed my chair from the desk to meet Dream's inquisitive gaze. He glanced purposefully at the disassembled phone in my hands. What are you doing? I imagined him asking.

"I don't trust this device," I admitted. "I want to know how it works." Dream flattened his ears with understanding. Presenting the phone, I asked, "Can you smell anything weird?" Nostrils flaring, Dream extended his muzzle to sniff the burner phone, then pulled back to shake his head no. He whined faintly, brimming with questions his canine body did not allow him to express.

"I'll spend the night on this," I explained. "I'll repair it once I know there's nothing hidden inside." Remembering our third friend, I requested, "Can you bring Sapnap? I'll tell him, too."

With a nod, Dream scooted away to the flat's main room. I heard murmuring, then uneven footsteps as he returned, roughly pulling Sapnap into my bedroom by the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Dammit, Dream, you could've just asked me to follow you," Sapnap scolded. His eyes flitted to me and widened with disbelief. "George, why are you destroying the phone?"

"I'm looking for bugs," I shrugged. "Dr. Mendesa already turned Dream into a dog, so he doesn't mind getting into our personal business."

"Go ahead," Sapnap shrugged. Thinking to himself for a moment, he admitted, "I can't believe we're all here together. It's so cool."

"Hmm," I mumbled. Swiveling my office chair, I diverted my attention back to unscrewing the front part of the burner phone.

"Damn, don't get too excited." Sapnap rolled his eyes before leaving the door a jar. More seriously, he added, "I'll let you work. You've got this, George."

"Thanks. Let's see if I can sleep at a normal time, too."

"We have plenty of time," Sapnap reassured. While doubtful, I did not disagree as he left the bedroom.

Looking over my shoulder, I addressed Dream, who remained in my room. "Anything else you want to say?"

He paused, then drew on the floor,

IM NAKED UNDER THIS FUR

"Oh my god, Dream," I rolled my eyes with a scoff. "I was trying not to think about that."

Snorting with laughter, my friend winked back. Pacing toward me, he rested a paw on my thigh and flattened his ears with a soft whine. You can do it, George, he seemed to encourage, and I smiled with appreciation. Shaking out his fur and flicking his fluffy white tail, Dream trailed Sapnap out of the room.

*15 hours remain*

~Dream~

At only 11pm, the flat's occupants yawned. George briefly abandoned his tampering with the burner phone to provide a heap of blankets and pillows from his bedroom closet.

"This should work," George muttered distractedly as he and Sapnap draped a thin blue bed sheet over the couch. "If you want, you can take my bed and I'll sleep here."

"Nah, dude, it's fine," Sapnap refused politely. "This couch is hella comfortable. I'll crash here." Facing me, he asked, "Dream, how about you?"

Although I preferred to rest my aching muscles on a human bed, I answered by pacing across the living room to stand above a circular blue dog pillow in the corner of the room. Our arrangement assigned Sapnap and me to the living room while George and his dog occupied the bedroom.

Around 11:30pm, George turned off the flat lights except for a single lamp in his bedroom as he continued disassembling the burner phone. On the couch, a cocoon of blankets enveloped Sapnap's sleeping form.

Dragging the bowl-shaped dog pillow across the hardwood floor, I dropped it at the couch's foot and curled up until sleep overcame me.

Time passed until pressure in my lower belly woke me. Lifting myself from the dog pillow to stretch, I viewed the microwave clock. Glowing numbers read 4:54am. It's too early for this, I cursed. George's lamp was off, leaving the flat nearly pitch-black; slow breathing emanated from the bedroom. With resignation, I returned to the couch to wake Sapnap.


	7. Emergency

**Content warning: mild language**

*9 hours remain*

~Sapnap~

Soft fur tickled my cheek. I flinched awake, but darkness rendered my sight useless. When my brain focused, I remembered my location in Brighton, thousands of kilometers from home. My eyes adjusted to the low light of George's flat, detecting the faint outline of a massive wolf-like creature sniffing my face. Determined to prevent me from falling asleep again, Dream used his thick, razor-sharp teeth to tug away my blanket.

"What time is it?" I rasped, voice hoarse from sleep as I sat up on George's couch. Extending a paw, Dream etched on the hardwood floor,

5

Furrowing my brow with confusion, I noticed his behavior was erratic and his movements jittery. "Why are you acting like that?"

Whining softly, Dream leapt to stand beside the front door, merging with the shadows. His thumb-less paws did not allow him to turn the round doorknob.

"Want to go outside?" I realized he needed to relieve himself, for Dream answered with a pronounced nod. Dismounting the couch, I strode to unlock the front door. "Man, if you get stuck as a dog, you're screwed if you can't even open doors by yourself."

Dream huffed with annoyance. Once I widened George's front door enough for his bulky figure to squeeze through, Dream bolted, disappearing into the gloom. Politely I regressed indoors to give him privacy and prepared myself in George's restroom. Might as well get ready now. Only nine hours remained to reverse my friend's transformation.

When I returned to the flat's main area, Dream was absent. Poking my head outside, I saw him sniffing curiously at the grass, sidewalk, and street, testing his canine senses. Despite the overcast sky, without even a faint glow of dawn on the horizon, his white pelt was easy to locate.

"Hey, Dream?" Hoping to calm my nerves, I suggested, "We're already awake. Let's explore or something." When he hesitated, I added, "It's super early, so we'll be alone to see if anyone follows us."

Dream perked up with agreement. Waiting patiently on the front steps, he sat with a tail curled over his paws as I crossed the flat and peeked into George's bedroom. The burner phone lay on his desk, its black outline contrasting with the gray surface; the phone was intact and reassembled after hours of overnight work. A slender figure slept peacefully in the bed; Dog draped herself over one unmoving leg. Privately I believed hacking into such a low-tech phone sounded ridiculous; plus, if George had found anything crucial inside, he had not woken me for an update. Despite my admiration for my friend's dedication, his constant stubbornness and complaining were a drag. I doubted he would approve of an early morning walk for fresh air.

Slinging my backpack over my shoulders, I emerged from the flat and closed the front door softly behind me.

"Alright, let's go," I nodded to Dream, who yipped with enthusiasm.

Shivering against the early morning chill, we squinted against seaborne winds as we traversed the streets of Brighton. Nearly invisible drizzle fluttered from the overcast sky. Alone on the streets, we passed closed shops, cafes, and complexes, our shadows stretching across the pavement beneath the warm yellow glow of streetlamps.

When Dream's ears swiveled to one side, I glanced in their direction. An unnerving obscurity lay on the other side of the street; no streetlamps lit the area within. A park. Intrigued, Dream swerved off our sidewalk and crossed the empty street, paws thumping over the damp asphalt.

"Hold up!" I called lightly, keeping my voice down for the Brighton locals sleeping in the flats above our heads. Needlessly I glanced both ways while crossing the street and pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt while Dream marched recklessly into the park.

Towering oak trees provided some shelter from the drizzle. Fallen leaves and sticks littered the cobblestone pathway. No streetlamps lit the park, so I slowed my pace; all lighting came from behind me, and from the distant glittering of streetlamps ahead, on the other side of the park. Between those streetlamps and me lay utter darkness.

"Dream?" I called shakily. "I know you're better at feeling around right now, but I don't think we should be here. I can't see at all." Shifting my feet, I detected only dirt and no pavement beneath my shoes; I must have left the pathway without realizing. Anxiously I changed direction.

Dream's yelp warned me too late. Misjudging the slope, my next footstep hit nothing and I lost my balance. Gasping, I tumbled and crashed to the bottom of... what? Head spinning, I struggled to sit up. Shielding my eyes against the drizzle, I looked to see Dream at the top of the slope, peering cautiously over the edge. Only a silhouette, he whistled, are you okay?

"I'm alright," I groaned, scanning my surroundings for a way up. Unfortunately, the slope did not flatten; I was stuck in a nearly circular hole, lined with construction tape at the top that read 'CAUTION' in bold letters. In daylight, falling in would be easily avoidable. "Do you see a way back up?"

Investigating the oddly even walls of the hole, Dream rounded the entire circumference, which was not far; when construction was finished, this would likely become a manhole or accommodate some underground machine. Faint backlighting illuminated Dream's fur as it bushed with disappointment and worry; he shook his head.

"It's alright, Dream," I reassured him. "Is there anyone around?"

He lifted his head with ears pricked, assessing the park. He turned once, then snapped around with a disappointed grunt. As I feared, we were alone.

Sticking one paw past the edge of the hole, he drew a letter in the wall:

G

"G? What's G?"

Dream growled with frustration, wishing he could express his idea with words. Lowering the same paw for a 'stay put' gesture, he retreated from the hole's edge.

"Well, obviously, I'll wait here."

Tail twitching with determination, Dream whipped around and bounded out of sight. I listened to his heavy pawsteps rustling the leaves, then to the faint clacks of his nails against the cobblestone pathway. Finally, his sounds faded from the park.

I sighed, remembering how much I trusted my tenacious friend. Finding and bringing help would be challenging, but nothing short of a locked iron door could stop Dream from success.

Alone, I removed my backpack and lowered myself against the rounded wall, intent on sitting. With a gasp, I bolted upwards when cold water soaked my pants. Fixing my gaze on the bottom of the hole, dreadful chills crept up my spine. One decimeter of water rippled at my feet, soaking my socks. As I watched, the water level steadily rose as the drizzle above became rain. Low ground was a dangerous place to be.

*8.5 hours remain*

~Dream~

Wind whipped against my face and cooled my tongue as I hurried along the Brighton sidewalks. A blanket of dense gray clouds obscured the coming light of dawn as the city began to stir. A few pedestrians walked in close-knit pairs and groups, wearing heavy raincoats and carrying umbrellas. Several cars passed with headlights and windshield wipers on. A tingle of electricity lifted the hairs along my neck and shoulders as I sniffed the air. Rain had already replaced the drizzle, permeating my pelt and drenching the skin beneath.

Following my superior sense of smell, I retraced Sapnap's and my path to George's flat. Even as my muscles ached with effort, relief coursed through me as I spotted his home, one of many narrow, identical buildings in the complex. George was asleep when Sapnap and I left thirty minutes ago. I had to wake him.

Reaching the front door, I batted at the round doorknob; it did not budge. Frustrated at the uselessness of my paws, I resorted to barking. According to George and Sapnap, my bark was deafening. Allowing air to fill my lungs between each burst, I created a racket. From other flats in the complex, countless dogs answered my cries. Neighboring residents opened their windows to curse at me.

When I began to worry that my efforts were in vain, that perhaps George was out buying breakfast or walking his own dog, I heard thumping footsteps approach the door from within. Urgently I barked one more time for emphasis, fervent as the door swung open to reveal a disheveled, bleary-eyed George.

"Oh my god, what the hell is it?" He groaned with exasperation, leaning down to grip my face in his hands. "You can't make noise like that. You'll get me in trouble!"

Determined to communicate my distress, I bounced upwards to press both front paws against his stomach, smearing mud on his white shirt.

"No, please don't jump on me, Dream!" George tensed and instinctively held up both hands for self-defense. Luckily, the neighbors had closed their windows and receded inside; no one watched us. Realizing I was alone, George's eyes widened. "Wait, where's Sapnap? What's going on? Why are you so wet?"

Dropping to all four paws, I spelled on the front steps,

HELP

Immediately sensing my urgency, George's sleepiness vanished; his dark brown eyes focused.

"I'll get my backpack," he vowed, receding inside. I leapt forward to hold the door with my shoulders as he dashed across the flat. Snagging his blue backpack off the kitchen table, he tossed his cell phone and keys inside the main compartment, zipping it shut as he returned. Barely remembering to lock the front door behind us, he instructed, "Lead me."

Dutifully I whipped around, trotting at a brisk pace slow enough for George to keep up. Following my visual and olfactory memory, I skirted pedestrians and navigated crosswalks. Time flew by as the rain fell harder, and my heart beat faster.

"Where did you guys go?" George protested the distance, but his pursuit did not waver. Unnerved, he hissed to himself, "Goddammit, I forgot to check the weather. It's a rainstorm."

Torrents showered the oak trees with a harsh racket as crossed the street, approaching the park. With dawn adding to the streetlamps' glow, the ground beyond was slightly more visible, revealing the hole several meters ahead as a darker smudge against the sodden, mossy ground.

Squinting against the intense sheets, George gasped with recognition as we raced along the cobblestone pathway. "Sapnap went here?" His voice filled with panic. "No one's supposed to go in during rainstorms. The park is going to flood!"


	8. Rescue

**Content warning: harsh language**

*8 hours remain*

~George~

Pouring rain deterred visitors from the Brighton park, leaving us alone in the shower.

"Don't tell me Sapnap fell into the stupid manhole!" I grumbled, stepping off the cobblestone pathway. Dream nodded. Raising my volume, I called, "Sapnap!"

"George?" A muffled voice cracked with surprise.

Reaching the manhole, I grounded both feet in the slippery mud and peered over the edge. Sapnap stood alone inside with the top of his head barely reaching the edge of the hole, too far down to hoist himself up. Tendrils of wet brown hair stuck to his forehead. He shivered from the cold as rippling water lapped at his knees.

"You're such an idiot," I scolded. Despite worrying for his safety, I crossed my arms with exasperation and demanded, "How did you fall in?"

"I wasn't looking," Sapnap testified sheepishly. He pleaded, "Don't be mad when this is the least inappropriate kind of hole to be stuck in."

Resisting the urge to credit his sexual humor, I sighed with resignation. Dropping my arms, I observed the water creeping up Sapnap's thighs. "We'll get you out."

"Take my phone first," he instructed. Reaching into his back pocket, he presented his smartphone. Mud soaked my jeans and socks as I knelt, leaned forward, and snagged the phone from my friend's outstretched hand. I tucked it into the main compartment of my backpack along with mine, grateful for the waterproof lining as I zipped it shut.

"Alright, now are you ready?"

"Yeah, pull me up." Sapnap pressed against the wall of the hole, squinting as raindrops spattered his upturned face.

Anchoring my knees in the ground and allowing them to sink into the mud, I clutched both of his hands in mine. Eager to help, Dream strode closer until he crouched by my side. His fluffy gray pelt was dull and waterlogged, and the fur on his underside was spiky with mud. If we were not careful, we would fall into the hole, too.

"Jump on three," I ordered, hiding my fear of being unable to support my friend's greater weight. Sapnap bent his knees. "Three," I counted. From beside me, Dream firmly planted his paws in the earth and sniffed with anticipation. Readying my muscles, I tensed. "Two... one!"

Sapnap lunged upwards. I snatched his elbows, leaving his hands free to grip the edge of the hole. Dream caught the collar of Sapnap's hoodie. His sharp teeth tore holes in the fabric as he pulled with me.

As I feared, Sapnap's weight dragged me downwards more than I pulled him upwards. My knees lost their grip. Dream leapt away in surprise as I tumbled, joining our friend in the hole as Sapnap and I lost our footing and splashed into the pool. Ice-cold water filled my ears and nose until my head broke the surface. Tight with panic, my lungs gasped for air. Using my jacket sleeve, I wiped water from my eyes. Squinting against the rain from above, I saw Sapnap staring at me with concern. Great, now we're both trapped!

Water sloshed around my waist as I stood and looked above Sapnap's head. My backpack remained at the top of the hole; our valuables were safe. Dream was the only member of our team still free. Yelping with alarm, he began wildly scooping away mud from the hole's edge. Dream's soggy fur clung to his frame; he was skinnier beneath than I anticipated.

Rain continued to fall. A chilly sea-borne breeze whipped my face. When I remembered our race against the clock, anger replaced my defeat.

"Why did you have to take a stupid walk?" I confronted Sapnap. "I stayed up all night fixing the burner phone. You only had to stay inside! We could be planning how to change Dream back right now in my warm living room, eating breakfast, but no, you two idiots went to the park in the middle of a rainstorm!"

"What's wrong with taking a walk?" Sapnap defied. "Fresh air helps us think. If we were stuck in your living room trying to solve a scientific problem, whose process we don't even understand, we would go crazy with stress and you know it!" Gaining momentum, he argued, "Not everyone is as antisocial as you, George. Dream had to pee first, then we got carried away."

"You wasted so much time," I hissed furiously. Did he not comprehend our situation's gravity? "It's almost 6, and time is up at 2 this afternoon before Dream is a dog forever."

"That's plenty of time," Sapnap scoffed.

"No, it isn't! If we keep getting stuck, there's no way we'll make it."

"Not with that attitude," he spat.

"Alright, fine." Nastily I snapped, "If you're right, I'll be wrong and we get our friend back. If I'm right," I leaned in, poking my finger in his face for emphasis. "You'll be wrong... and you'll be the one who tells Dream's family."

"Why me? We're both his friends!" Sapnap stared with disbelief. "You're so pessimistic, George. No wonder you never get anything done. You don't believe in yourself!"

"I'm not pessimistic," I insisted stubbornly. "I'm realistic."

The digging above us halted and a scolding growl followed: Guys, stop fighting! Remembering Dream directly above us, Sapnap and I glanced up at him.

"Don't worry, Dream, it's just a discussion," Sapnap reassured.

"You're a fucking idiot, Sapnap," I cursed at him. "He can hear us!"

"George, you're so pretentious," he accused in response.

"And you're so impulsive, you're going to get Dream killed." I regretted my harsh words once I said them, but I felt no need to apologize for my resentment.

Pleading this time, Dream whimpered: Please stop fighting.

Lifting his chin, Sapnap's lips trembled and his eyes misted with hurt. We turned away from each other as the water level reached our lower chests.

At the terribly uncomfortable silence, Dream lowered his head and continued to dig. Minutes passed until his small yelp alerted us to his progress. We looked up, yearning for an escape from the hole and each other. Finally, a sizable divot carved out the edge.

"Good work, Dream!" Sapnap praised with hollow joy. He leaned against the triangular slope of the divot, crawling from the hole with Dream's assistance.

When they were finished, I was impatient to leave. Approaching the edge of the divot, I met Dream's unreadable gaze.

"We'll do our best to help you," I promised, hoping those were the right words. He grunted in curt acceptance before stepping forward to help me. Muscles aching, I lifted the hood of my jacket for him to snag and heaved myself out of the hole. Dream's hot breath hit the side of my neck. Sticky drops of warm saliva dampened the hairs along my spine as he dragged me through the mud.

Once free, I grabbed my backpack and joined Sapnap, who stood forebodingly beside a nearby tree.

"Let's go," he muttered.

*7.5 hours remain*

~Dream~

Dawn lit the sky as we hurried through the park and city streets. No words came between us, and tension hung thick in the air. We were chilled to the bone, drenched, and miserable. With my head bowed, I limped on sore paws beside George. For once, I was thankful I could not speak, so no one asked me to explain why I did not walk beside Sapnap instead as we returned to the flat.

My friends removed their waterlogged shoes before entering, while I wiped my muddy paws on the mat outside the front door.

"You take a shower first," George offered, pouring his backpack's contents on the kitchen table.

"Okay," Sapnap returned curtly. He departed, locking himself in the restroom. As the shower turned on, George faced me.

"Sorry you had to hear that back there." Though dull with exhaustion, his apology was genuine.

Worried for our team's friendship, I nodded with acceptance.

When Sapnap returned from a lengthy shower, George followed. Using the tub, I bathed last with the help of my friends, who grudgingly washed my fur. Once we were clean and drying, the clock read 7:30am. Rays of morning sunlight filtered through the window curtains. Sounds of a bustling city livened the flat as we ate breakfast.

Hoping to instigate a conversation, I stood from the carpet and paced to George's side. He and Sapnap looked up from the remnants of their cereal to blink curiously at me,

"Yes, Dream?"

HOW 2 CHANGE ME BACK?

George and Sapnap exchanged a glance.

"We could talk about it," Sapnap resigned.

"We have to," George decided. He edged his chair away from Sapnap, leaving enough room for me to prop myself up with both front paws on the table's wooden surface.

Sapnap began, "If we aren't with Dr. Mendesa by the end of our time, how would we change Dream back without the machine?"

"There's got to be a way," George insisted. "Dr. Mendesa said they're still perfecting the technology. Maybe it has flaws."

"Flaws that work in our favor?" Sapnap raised a dubious eyebrow. "Remember when you asked for a hint on how to change him back? Dr. Mendesa said we would have to be stupid or unlucky to figure it out before the time is up." He paused. "Good thing you're stupid and I'm unlucky."

"Whatever," George rolled his eyes, hiding a half-smile of amusement.

"Was there anything in the burner phone?" Sapnap consulted.

"Nothing," George shook his head with disappointment. "It tracks us for sure, though, so I bet Dr. Mendesa knows we're here." After hesitating, he added, "I did some research, and I think the machine they used to change Dream is programmed to copy metamorphosis."

"Metamorphosis is what caterpillars do, right?" Intrigued, Sapnap raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," George explained. "Caterpillars become butterflies when their hormone levels change. When their body releases enough of the chemical ecdysone, the caterpillar spins a chrysalis and transforms into a pupa."

When both friends looked at me, I shrank within myself. George elaborated, "Becoming a dog isn't the point. That machine could transform any creature into anything with a chemical like ecdysone. A sudden change in the levels of the chemical is required for transformation to happen or not happen. The chemical must be eliminated to make the form permanent, or triggered to make the form change."

Catching onto George's logic, Sapnap concluded, "Something big needs to happen to change Dream back." Facing me, he scratched his jaw awkwardly. "Dream?" Sensing the shift in mood from strategic to somber, I lowered myself onto all four paws. My tail stilled. "Where would you go?" George's eyebrows raised; he anticipated our friend's upcoming question, but the idea coming from Sapnap's mouth surprised him. "If you don't change back in time, would you live with your family in their house or would you live with one of us?"

I dropped my gaze. Shoulders drooping, I slunk under the dining room table without writing my thoughts. Sapnap and George leaned forward to see me beneath the wooden surface as I quivered with uncertainty.

"Something big needs to happen to change Dream back," Sapnap's statement haunted me. What would I do if that something fails?


	9. Breakthrough

**Content warning: mentions of abuse**

*6 hours remain*

~Dream~

Springs creaked as I mounted George's bed. He shifted atop the blankets with a heavy sigh and extended a hand to stroke my ears. Deep into his research of metamorphosis on his smartphone, George ignored me while reading until I leaned forward to grip the device gently between my teeth. Careful to avoid drooling on it, I locked eyes with him.

"What is it, Dream?"

Satisfied that I held his attention, I released my hold. George knew the drill; following my paw, he watched me spell letters on the blanket beside him:

CALL MY MOM

"Why?" He frowned with confusion. "We told her last night you're coming home soon."

True, I thought, but my mother would become anxious without any further message from the only person who claimed to have seen her son since my sudden disappearance. Willing my friend to understand, I spelled my longest message yet,

SAY ILL BE LONGER I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO

"I'm worried, too, Dream," George empathized. Returning his attention to his cell phone, he decided, "I'll tell her." Placing the device on the blanket between us, he redialed the previous number.

Several rings hummed from the phone until the line picked up,

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. Dream." George's greeting was smoother than during their first conversation. He explained, "I'm calling in case you're wondering how Dream is. He's not in the room right now, but he asked me to tell you he'll be away longer."

"Oh, George, it's you!" Instantly my mother fired a barrage of questions. "How much longer? Is it an emergency? Does he need money?"

"There's no emergency, he doesn't need money, and we're not sure how much longer," George answered easily.

Our confidence deflated when my mother pressed, "George, is there something you're not telling me? You sound so... rehearsed." Her quiet, pleading tone sent pain through my heart. I'm okay, Mom, don't worry, I wanted to say, but I had no lips.

To me, George gaped, mouthing urgently, "What do I say?"

Thinking fast, I spelled, ILY

"I can't tell you what's going on," George apologized honestly. "But please believe me when I say Dream is safe and not in trouble. He says he loves you."

"George, you're scaring me. Has something happened to him? Why did he make you say that? Please let me talk to him. If there's a problem, he might be willing to share with me."

"He's not here."

"I..." My mother gave up, sighing with resignation, "Okay, then. I believe you. When he comes back, tell him I love him, too. Nothing could ever change that." Even me being a dog, unable to speak?

A floor board creaked; I swiveled my head to spot Sapnap standing beyond the doorway of George's bedroom, hiding in the shadows as he listened intently. Our eyes met. When I looked back to George, the call with my mother was over. Turning off his phone with a pathetic sigh, my friend on the bed spotted the eavesdropper.

"Sapnap?"

"You called his mom without me?" He sounded betrayed.

"Dream asked me," George bristled.

"You could've brought me first," Sapnap pointed out with a shrug.

"I'm sorry." I noticed the darkness around George's bloodshot eyes. With the least sleep between us, he appeared exhausted. On cue, he rubbed one eye with a knuckle. "I didn't think about it."

"Now who's impulsive and might get someone killed?" Sapnap raised a wry eyebrow.

Whining, I dismounted the bed to stand between the two, discouraging another argument. They fight more than a strict parent and stubborn teenager, I stewed. The thought reminded me of heated discussions between my own parents and me from years ago. I remembered yearning to escape what I felt was unjustified control over my life. At the memory, a sudden idea entered my head.

LISTEN, I spelled on George's carpet. My friends hushed, patiently observing as I continued, WE NEED NEW STRATEGY.

"Are we missing something?" Sapnap inquired curiously.

Why didn't I think about this before? More people than Dr. Mendesa understood the transformation better than they communicated. Despite her zealous admiration for us, his daughter Jazzie seemed miserable under the harsh discipline of her father. Surely she would accept an opportunity to escape the abuse he likely administered behind closed doors.

DONT NEED TO FIGURE OUT HOW 2 REVERSE

SOMEONE ON INSIDE ALREADY KNOWS HOW

*5 hours remain*

~Sapnap~

While waiting for a chance to implement our plan, George, Dream, and I took turns power-napping, regaining lost strength from escaping the manhole earlier in the morning. During George's turn, he occupied half the couch beside me, curled in a fetal position with his head draping over one cushioned armrest and his toes poking my thigh.

Distracting myself, I scrolled through my smartphone, where users on social media perceived our team's mysterious absence. Reassuring myself we would return soon to quell their fears, I read news instead.

Suddenly, Dream's ears pricked, interrupting his slumber and dissipating the mellow atmosphere. Brilliant teal eyes flew open and a fluffy head lurched upwards from the dog bed near my feet. His sharp gaze pointed toward the front door.

My stomach dropped. Alarmed, I nudged George. He roused, mumbling, "Hm, what?" When his deep brown gaze focused, he caught the urgency in my expression and pressed his lips shut.

We listened intently, but heard nothing. Only Dream's sensitive ears detected whatever was coming. Slinking toward the front door, his paws thumped light as a feather until finally, George and I heard faint footsteps outside. A knock upon the door made us flinch.

"Who is it?" George's hushed whisper broke the silence. Fur rose along Dream's spine.

Standing up, I whispered, "I'll see."

"Sapnap, wait -" His warning hiss came too late as I prowled toward the back of the flat and cautiously slid open the bathroom window.

Climbing out feet-first, I landed in the soggy grass and rounded the flat. Heaving a deep breath, I peeked beyond the building's front corner to view our visitor. Our plan might work, I realized with a vivid gasp as I recognized Jazzie Mendesa.


	10. Return

**Content warnings: mentions of abuse, harsh language, mild nsfw**

*5 hours remain*

~Dream~

Recognizing Jazzie Mendesa's scent from inside, I scratched fervently on George's front door until he cautiously opened it. We have to convince her to join our side. I rushed out, skidding to a halt before the girl as my friend followed with his backpack, standing behind me on the front steps.

"Good morning, Dream and George," Jazzie greeted coolly.

"Hi," George responded. I wagged my tail in welcome.

Jazzie stood alone in a t-shirt and shorts. Her wary brown eyes met George's level gaze. She appeared confident, but I sensed a fearful sweat. Someone must be watching us. Sniffing further, I caught a whiff of the same van which transported George, Sapnap, and me to the Brighton alleyway. When I scanned our surroundings, I saw no one, but I doubted Dr. Mendesa would send his daughter alone. The vindictive man guarded Jazzie religiously, not because he loved her, but because he viewed her as property.

Sapnap emerged from behind George's flat, joining us on the front steps with his backpack. Appearing receptive but not intimidating, we waited for the girl's first move. If Jazzie switched sides, she could be instrumental in reversing my transformation and defeating Dr. Mendesa. When kept silent, she opened,

"Sorry for interrupting your morning, but my father wants you back at the company."

"Where is he?" George asked.

"He's nearby with his team." She said his team, not our team, I noticed.

With George and Sapnap hanging back, I approached Jazzie on the mossy sidewalk. Remembering the lines I practiced an hour before, I spelled,

JAZZIE WE KNOW UR FATHER IS MAKING YOU DO THIS

"He's not making me," she dismissed. "We're family, a team." Blinking fast, she clasped her hands together to hide the twitching fingers. Liar.

COME WITH US INSTEAD WE CAN HELP YOU ESCAPE

Surprised, Jazzie hesitated. After watching her father turn his test subject into a dog, she must have expected animosity, not an appeal to join us. "How would I come with you?" Despite her skepticism, she lowered her volume as if seriously considering our proposition. Her willingness to plot with us did not surprise me; such a possessive father would drive any girl to seize an opportunity to flee.

WE CAN FIGURE IT OUT

"Jazzie, we won't hurt you." George promised sincerely. "Please help us change Dream back."

"Your father treats you like shit and you don't deserve it," Sapnap added. "It's okay to be scared, but we want to support you, too."

Color flooded Jazzie's cheeks while tears glistened in her eyes. Overwhelmed, she whispered, "I've wanted to leave for a long time. If I help you, I need your trust in return."

WE TRUST YOU, I assured. Please don't betray us, I pleaded silently. My heart soared as Jazzie ultimately nodded in agreement. "Alright, I'm in." Keeping her voice down, she briefed, "If you make my father angry, he'll hurt Dream, but by hurting Dream, he'll unknowingly make it easier to change Dream back."

Maintaining a courteous distance, George and Sapnap leaned in, listening intently.

"Does changing him back require pain?" George hissed.

"Not necessarily, but my father will be so focused on hurting Dream, he'll be vulnerable to attack himself." At our dubious expressions, Jazzie explained in an urgent whisper, "If he captures you guys now, it'll give you the best chance of reversing the transformation before time runs out."

George and Sapnap glanced at me. Trusting Jazzie was my idea, so this was my decision. Calmly I paced forward, touching the girl's delicate hand with my damp black nose.

"Dream says yes," Sapnap translated. "We'll follow your lead."

"Harming me is the easiest way to upset my father, but I'm sure you guessed that," Jazzie instructed quickly. "Yell at me. Dream, when I run, you chase me down. If my father sees, he'll bring you back immediately and give you the most time to change back." Taking a deep breath, she straightened and signaled with her lips, "Go."

"So you know how the machine works and how to reverse the transformation," Sapnap accused. He adopted Jazzie's instructions by raising his voice, threatening, "Do you think we can't make you tell us?"

"Don't hurt me please," Jazzie pleaded. Her alarm was strikingly real, but she feared Dr. Mendesa, not us. She must be desperate to escape him if she trusted us so readily. The thought motivated me; already beside the girl, I bared my teeth with a violent snarl, eagerly participating in the deception. As planned, Jazzie ran into the empty street with a terrified scream.

George called enthusiastically, "Dream, fetch!"

I launched myself after her. Jazzie was lithe and fleet-footed, but my racing speed was faster than any human gait. Within seconds, I closed the distance between us.

"Dream, leave me alone!" Her convincingly high-pitched scream rang in my sensitive ears.

Ensuring our scuffle was in broad view of Dr. Mendesa and his team in their hidden location, I leapt. To avoid toppling Jazzie too roughly, I rammed my shoulder into the back of her knee. With a pained gasp, she tumbled to the asphalt, scraped but not injured.

Van doors opened and slammed nearby. Booted footsteps approached. The scents of Dr. Mendesa and his assistants filled my nostrils. Success! I nearly rejoiced until a furious Dr. Mendesa entered my vision.

Finally, I bit Jazzie's calf. My teeth squished warm skin, muscle, and fat as I gripped the limb. With a throaty growl, I shook the girl crudely enough to bruise, but not enough to puncture the flesh. Only when Dr. Mendesa and several members of his militaristic guards surrounded me did I release Jazzie; she bolted out of range. One guard bore a long pole with a loop on the end. When I recognized the animal control tool as they hooked it around my throat, I yelped indignantly. Don't have the balls to get close, huh?

Tightening and pressing into the flesh, the loop conformed to my neck. When I attempted to jerk away, Dr. Mendesa's eyes lit with delight when the tendril choked me. My frenzied thrashing ended as the guards threw a black mesh net over me, grabbed my scruff, and lifted my body from the asphalt.

Realizing I could no longer hear Sapnap and George, I stilled long enough to see their figures slumped in the arms of other guards, who pressed cloths over their mouths. I whimpered at the sight of my unconscious friends.

"Shut up," Dr. Mendesa hissed as his guards shoved me into a large cage, whose dimensions barely fit my human-sized body. "Be grateful you aren't going to a dog pound." I snarled at the man as he padlocked the cage door behind me.

"Enjoy the trunk," Jazzie taunted as the guards loaded my cage through the van's back door. I stared at the girl; she could not reveal her alliance with us. Until she proved herself, I wondered if she had betrayed us already as the trunk slammed. No, she promised to help, I reminded myself.

From the back of the van, I struggled to peek out the windows high above me. Grunts of guards, heavy footsteps on the van floor, thumps of limp bodies and backpacks in the back seat, and clicking seat belts met my ears. When the engine powered to life and the van lurched forward, I watched a blur of Brighton buildings and occasional flashes of a cloudy sky beyond as my friends and I returned to confinement.

*2 hours remain*

~George~

A pounding headache accompanied my return to consciousness. Groaning, I tried to stretch before feeling cold metal handcuffs restraining my hands behind a chair. A disoriented Sapnap roused across from me. Blinking, we recognized the same small cell from yesterday morning. Last time we were here, Dream was still human.

Eyes adjusting to the dim light from the center of the ceiling, I saw a large wire cage several meters away on the dusty concrete floor. Inside, Dream lay in a forlorn ball, facing away as he scrutinized the empty gray hallway beyond. At the sound of Sapnap's and my movement, one ear swiveled backwards. His head lifted, turning to stare hopefully at us.

"Dream, hey," Sapnap breathed, shifting in his chair.

The dog rose, nearly hitting his head on the cage's low ceiling as he stood and stretched. My heart lifted with relief that our team was safe, but also raced with fear of what lay ahead. On the floor by my feet, the burner phone lay open; its countdown screen read 1 hour, 57 minutes.

Dream was not the only respondent to our consciousness. Footsteps echoed down the hallway as Dr. Mendesa and his guards stopped before our room. In the low light, they appeared menacing. A shiver crawled up my spine.

"Welcome back!" Dr. Mendesa exclaimed with false joy as he entered our room. The two handcuffed humans and one caged dog posed no threat to him. I scowled when he continued, "George and Sapnap, thanks for coming along." With malicious glee, the man reached into Dream's cage and tugged roughly on our friend's fluffy tail, releasing in time to avoid a pair of jaws snapping at his fingers. "Dream, you nearly mutilated my daughter. It's almost time to punish you."

Dream spelled with a panting grin,

WHAT IF I ENJOY IT

"Oh, I know I'll enjoy it." Dr. Mendesa smirked unexpectedly, taking Dream aback. Fur prickled along my friend's shoulders as the man crouched by his cage. "I would've been nice, but now, I have better plans for you."

After successfully instilling fear in his test subjects' hearts, Dr. Mendesa rose. He and his guards ended their brief visit, exiting the concrete room and leaving down the hallway. Our unsettled team was alone in the room.

Several minutes passed until a familiar assistant's arrival with a silver cart meant lunch. They slid two ceramic plates and one bowl through the small opening at the bottom of the glass wall facing the hallway. Sapnap's and my metal handcuffs unlocked, clattering to the ground as we stretched. Once the assistant departed, we approached the delivery, crouching to investigate. Each plate bore a simple half-sandwich. After gulping them down, we exchanged an apprehensive glance at the bowl's contents: kibbles of dog food.

Gently I slid the bowl closer to Dream's cage. When he whined remorsefully, I realized neither the bowl nor his head could fit through the wire mesh. An idea entered my head, and I drew a single kibble from the bowl. Sapnap followed suit, so we held both kibbles up to the mesh near the canine's mouth.

Dream grunted a thank-you, but I suspected begging for food must be incredibly demeaning for him. With utter humiliation, he lapped up the kibbles with a thick pink tongue, coating our fingers with saliva.

"It's okay to be hungry, dude," Sapnap consoled as he and I began the slow, painful process of feeding Dream two kibbles at a time.

"I was thinking the same," I empathized. When we finished helping Dream consume his small meal, I pushed the empty ceramic bowl to the side. "Do you have anything to say?" Seating myself on the dusty concrete beside our friend, I expected Dream to spell a witty retort. Instead, he drew a new shape on his cage's wire floor: a heart.

"Aw, Dream." From the floor beside me, Sapnap pressed a hand against the wiring of the cage. Dream touched his nose to our friend's palm with an earnest whimper as he spelled,

SORRY 4 LICKING U

"What if I enjoyed it?" Sapnap quoted with a joking smirk. Dream chuffed with laughter.

"Is this when we make up?" I asked my human friend, remembering how our team's wait together was waning. "I'm sorry for yelling at you in the park this morning."

"No worries, dude," he acknowledged with a lighthearted wink. "I would've done the same if I were a little British bitch boy like you."

Smiling with amusement, I recalled the memories our team shared and murmured wistfully, "When was the last time we played Minecraft together?"

"Like, a week ago?" Sapnap scratched his jaw, his eyes glazing with nostalgia.

If Dream became stuck as a dog, how would we play Minecraft together again? Our friend played expertly as a human, so relearning every element of the game to adjust for lacking fingers, hands, and a voice would frustrate him endlessly.

Time passed. The air in our shared cell became tense. I yearned to discuss our team's uneasy alliance with Jazzie, but until we escaped Dr. Mendesa, I had to trust Dream's judgment. When the burner phone's countdown read 1 hour exactly, footsteps echoed down the hallway for the second time. Queasiness churned in my belly as our race against the clock neared its end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dream Team's journey is coming to a close; please stick around for the final hour! <3


	11. Battle

**Content warnings: sexism, mild language, mentions of abuse, animal cruelty, violence, blood, vomit, mild gore, animal death**

*1 hour remains*

~Sapnap~

A circle of armed guards guided George, Dream, and me without blindfolds or restraints. Hairs stood along our necks and forearms as we navigated through cold gray hallways. George and I each brushed one hand against the white-tipped fur along Dream's spine while our canine friend padded between us. Our heavy footsteps and the clicks of dog nails on the shiny tiled floor echoed down the eerily quiet hallways.

Halting beside an open doorway, our group entered a new room. My eyes widened, observing the room's vast size, its black walls resembling the inside of a small stadium or filming studio. Head tilted upwards, I spotted visible pipes and insulation protruding from the high ceiling. The room's shape formed a pit, sloping downwards toward a square, volleyball-court-sized arena in the center. Bright lights fixed on the arena's sandy floor, leaving the surrounding room in relative darkness without direct illumination. Three of the arena's sides were chain-link fences; the fence closest to us bore an open gate. Near the floor of the fourth, concrete wall, in the center, lay a pitch-black tunnel leading out of the arena. Overlooking the fourth wall was a railed balcony where Dr. Mendesa expected our arrival.

"You're compliant," he approved as the armed guards locked the doors behind us and steered away, leaving George, Dream, and me alone in a tight-knit group. "See how we didn't need to bind your wrists this time?"

"We were nervous," I explained.

"Why are you doing this?" George questioned. "You must have a better reason to hurt Dream than him biting Jazzie."

"Dream encouraged my daughter to rebel," Dr. Mendesa explained. He discovered the alliance, I translated with a sinking heart. "Maybe he would've stolen corrupted her into even more of a slut than she already is, just to spite me. Challenging my authority over Jazzie is intolerable. I brought her into this world, and if anyone's going to take her out of it, that person will be me. She's locked up right now. I'll deal with the little rat later."

This cannot be how he thinks being a dad works. I kept the criticism to myself.

"Are you going to kill her?" George swallowed.

"No, but I'm sure she'll want to be dead once I've had my fun." Spotting George's and my quaking fear, Dr. Mendesa dismissed, "Oh, don't worry, George and Sapnap, nothing will happen to you or Jazzie. You would have missing posters everywhere. Everyone knows what you look like. Someone would identify your bodies." Menacingly he addressed Dream, "But would anyone recognize you? Animals die all the time. People report bodies in ditches, but no one thinks twice about roadkill."

Dream shrank backward, shivering against George's and my legs. We rubbed his flank comfortingly, but the thought of dying here without witnesses spooked us.

"Jazzie was lucky you didn't maul her leg, but you still endangered her life." Dr. Mendesa gestured to the arena's open gate. He beckoned, "Let me return the favor. Step away from your friends. They can't help you anymore."

Dream hesitated.

"I don't have all day," Dr. Mendesa narrowed his eyes. Shrugging, he added ominously, "On the other hand, you don't even have an hour."

At the threat of being stuck in a dog's body forever, Dream reluctantly proceeded alone. Holding his head and tail high to hide his fear, he entered the arena's open gate. His ears flicked when a single guard closed and locked the gate behind him. When the guard retreated to the edge of the room, George and I crept forward, watching from outside the chain-link fence as Dream stood alone in the arena.

"Depending on how this little event goes, you might transform back," Dr. Mendesa explained. "Any questions?" George and I scowled; his challenge was a cruel joke, for Dream could not verbally answer. "Perfect. I have a special guest for you to meet." Dr. Mendesa peered over the balcony's railing to overlook the arena. He enthused, "Who doesn't love a classic dog fight?"

Aren't dog fights illegal? I wondered, then remembered Dr. Mendesa was rich; he did not need to worry about the law. Serial killers often dabbled in animal cruelty before killing people, I remembered, but how could a dog fight result in Dream changing back? Was this event what Jazzie referenced when she claimed Dr. Mendesa's distraction while hurting Dream would make him vulnerable to attack?

"This battle is to the death," he declared. Waving one hand to a surveillance camera high above the arena, he signaled, "Open the tunnel!"

From deep within the hole in the arena's fourth wall, inhuman footsteps pattered, racing toward the opening. I nearly expected some grotesque, monstrous creature to emerge, but instead, a simple Rottweiler appeared. Bulky muscles rippled beneath the massive beast's black pelt as it slowed upon exiting the tunnel. Its brown paws sank into the sand as it faced Dream. Both opponents were of a similar size, with the same lean, robust build. The wolf-creature's presence startled the Rottweiler, which lowered its head to bare thick, yellow-stained teeth. Its amber eyes gleamed with fury.

Dream's fur fluffed up as he whipped his tail from side to side. Narrowing his eyes, he tilted his pointed snout downwards and bared long, razor-sharp teeth. Despite his bristling appearance, I sensed his terror. He knew he would be fighting for his life.

"You've got this, Dream," I murmured, not wanting to distract him.

The Rottweiler's sides heaved as it barked and stalked forward. Dream's ears flattened. Saliva dripped from the Rottweiler's jaws as it snarled a warning, but Dream had no option to retreat.

Choosing an aggressive strategy, our friend overcame his nerves and charged. Ducking, he avoided the Rottweiler's jaws scoring his shaggy pelt. The opponent's teeth missed puncturing flesh; instead, they left sticky trails of saliva along Dream's gray fur.

Both dogs reared, grappling each other with their front paws as they snapped at their opponent's ears and cheeks. Sharp yelps and growls filled the air until Dream successfully tossed the Rottweiler's head away and broke free from its grasp. Even out of his human form, our friend was a formidable fighter. He dodged and wove repeatedly before the other dog could land a serious bite or scratch.

George and I watched intently, willing our friend to win.

Then, Dream miscalculated. He charged, driving the Rottweiler into one corner of the arena. When he swooped in from one side, the dog bolted, skirting the wolf-creature to sink its teeth into the knee-joint of our friend's hind leg. Dream spun; kicking the Rottweiler's front limb, he buckled the elbow. When the Rottweiler's hold on his leg slipped, Dream doubled back. Although blood seeped from the bite wound on his knee-joint, he leapt magnificently. Slamming his front paws into the Rottweiler's shoulders, he toppled the dog and sunk his teeth into its throat. The Rottweiler flailed weakly before the light faded from its eyes. When our friend stood and released his grip, the corpse flopped to the arena's sandy floor. Dream had won.

George and I looked to Dr. Mendesa. He frowned, watching the scene forebodingly. Dream stood above the Rottweiler's dead body, staring with numb disbelief as he panted with exertion.

Several assistants rushed to enter the arena. Carefully unlocking and closing the gate behind them, they dragged the Rottweiler's body by its legs and placed the corpse beside one of the arena's fenced walls. While silent, their horrified expressions and the 'veterinarian' labels on their gray outfits meant they hated this as much as we did.

Shaking out his fur, Dream trotted in George's and my direction. Luckily, he bore only minor scratches, bruises, and bite marks.

"You won!" I blurted. Reaching my fingers through the chain-link fence, I stroked Dream's fur.

George pitched in, "That was amazing!" He scratched Dream's ears in support.

The veterinarians departed the arena, locking the gate behind them. Dream stood alone again. Dr. Mendesa praised, "Well fought! You demonstrated what swift, strategic thinking can earn you. Now, show us again." He signaled, "Open the tunnel!"

My stomach dropped as more inhuman pattering resounded from the tunnel. A second Rottweiler appeared, bursting into the arena. Dream spun away from George and me to face the new threat.

Again, Dream attacked first; he launched himself at the Rottweiler as the dog spat ferociously. Their flashing paws scuffed the sand, throwing dust into the air. Wrinkling our noses, George and I squinted through the fine grains.

Clearly a superior fighter to the first, the second Rottweiler tore at Dream's hind leg where the first Rottweiler had bitten it. Our friend yipped with pain, struggling against the dog's iron grip below his knee joint. His teeth snapped through the Rottweiler's ear, and the dog let go. When the two opponents separated, Dream's injured hind leg caused him to limp, while blood from the Rottweiler's shredded ear trickled down its face.

Remembering our friend's weak spot, the Rottweiler rushed Dream, darting to bite his hind leg from the back. Dream screeched with agony, losing his balance as the Rottweiler shook hard. As Dream fell and the Rottweiler remained standing, a sickening crack split the air. The sharp noise disrupted the Rottweiler, which released, leaving the leg below the knee joint twisting at an unnatural angle.

Dream's leg was broken. When he tried to stand fully, the shattered knee could not support his weight. Realizing his disadvantage, Dream whirled around to hide his weakness. Copying his successful move from the previous battle, he kicked the Rottweiler's front elbow to buckle the joint. As his opponent lurched forward to catch its balance, Dream dove, grappling the dog's spinal cord. A second chilling snap froze the air as his teeth crunched through bone. Instantly, the Rottweiler collapsed.

By a slimmer margin than the first battle, Dream had won again. Wheezing for breath, he shifted on his paws; his tail drooped with pain as he stood above the second Rottweiler's body. Blood oozed from wounds along his legs and flanks.

The veterinarians returned, gravely entering the arena. They dragged the second Rottweiler's corpse aside, piling it atop the dead body of the first.

Deserting the scene again, Dream limped in our direction with a lowered head. His broken hind leg trailed in the sand behind him.

"You did great," I complimented, trying to mask my horror at his serious injures.

"Good job, Dream," George supported, similarly mortified.

Crouching beneath us, Dream shuddered. A choking noise emanated from his throat as he vomited the dog kibbles from earlier. George's and my efforts to feed him were now worthless.

"It's okay, dude," I assured our embarrassed friend as he sent George and me an apologetic glance. "It happens."

Without permitting any further opportunity to rest as the veterinarians departed the arena, Dr. Mendesa's voice signaled,

"Again. Open the tunnel!"

Another patter of inhuman footsteps echoed. Yipping with alarm as his wounds from the previous two battles continued to bleed, Dream bared his teeth. Doubling backwards, he hid his crippled hind leg from the upcoming opponent.

A third Rottweiler thundered from the tunnel, as muscular and enraged as the first two. This Rottweiler did not hesitate; it attacked. Meeting in the arena's center, both dogs slammed into each other's shoulders.

Dream was already exhausted from battling two of Dr. Mendesa's Rottweilers; the third dog overtook him. Its brown paw smacked Dream's head away to deflect his snapping jaws. Instead of flaying his opponent's throat, Dream could only bite the Rottweiler's front leg. Both dogs snarled furiously; blood sprayed the sandy floor as the two separated, circling each other with ragged pelts and red droplets dripping from their teeth. Tufts of brown, black, and gray fur littered the arena.

"They're tearing each other apart," George whispered.

"It's not a fair fight!" I cried.

"I have twelve trained fighting dogs, if your friend survives that long." With a satisfied smirk, Dr. Mendesa retreated from the balcony above the arena. Why did he leave? When I returned my gaze to the battling dogs, I observed why he believed the fight was over.

Noticing our friend's limp, the Rottweiler skirted Dream's backside to latch onto his broken leg. With a crude pull, the dog dragged our friend off his feet. Flipping its opponent onto his back, the Rottweiler sunk its devastating teeth into Dream's belly. Tugging violently, it tore a massive gash in the delicate flesh. Blood gushed as our friend's agonized shriek split the air.

"No!" Helplessly clutching the chain-link fence, George and I screamed together.

Twitching weakly, Dream stilled, and did not rise again. As the Rottweiler reared, ready to deliver the killing blow, I realized too late the crucial mistake of assuming our friend would return home in a dog's body. Dream was not supposed to return at all.


	12. Sacrifice

**Content warnings: mild gore, blood, human death**

*32 minutes remain*

~Sapnap~

"Stop!" Without caring if our intervention would upset Dr. Mendesa, George and I scaled the chain-link fence and dropped into the arena, desperate to save our friend.

"Get the dog!" George shrieked at me. He bolted for Dream, who suffered in a pool of blood at the Rottweiler's feet.

"I've got it," I huffed. Separating from him, I rushed the dog; it froze at the sight of a human opponent.

Simultaneously, Jazzie Mendesa appeared on the balcony overlooking the arena, free from the imprisonment her father claimed she was subject to. With a shrill whistle, she hurled herself over the railing to land on her feet upon the arena's sandy floor. The Rottweiler spun to face the girl, yelping with protest at the high pitch.

"Here, Ryan!" Jazzie beckoned the hostile creature by its name, patting her knees. "Come on, boy, go home!"

Recognizing the girl's face and voice, the Rottweiler obediently fled into the tunnel without return.

As I acknowledged Jazzie with a nod, she returned my gaze silently. Dr. Mendesa was still absent. When I lifted my head, standing on my toes to see beyond the railing, I saw the man's dead body laying near the far wall. Shocked, I gaped at Jazzie; she appeared mournful, but not regretful.

"You gave me the perfect opportunity to nail him," she remarked shakily. "He didn't think I could escape my cell without the assistants' help."

"How'd you convince them to ditch him?"

"My father's employees hate him, so we made a deal," Jazzie explained quickly. "They can sell his technology and own the building without me in their business, and I can get rid of my father and leave."

"You think the employees will let us go?" I raised a suspicious eyebrow. We were witnesses.

"Would you tell on us?" Jazzie returned tentatively.

"I only would've told on Dr. Mendesa," I admitted, hesitant to confide in the girl. "He seemed like the leader."

"He was," she affirmed. "Everyone just did what they were told. It doesn't make everything okay, but some of us didn't have a choice."

Behind my legs, George's whispering under his breath reminded me of the crisis at hand. Promptly I spun with Jazzie jogging beside me to where George knelt over Dream's battered body. Agony glazed over our canine friend's eyes, but he was not dead. Dream panted, holding still to prevent worsening his own wounds. Although he was alive, the gash in his belly and the bites on his hind leg were devastating.

"Help me stop the bleeding," George ordered, pressing both hands into the lower hem of his shirt to soak the blood rushing from Dream's underside. I knelt with him, pressing the fabric of my shirt into the gaping bite wounds near the top of his twisted hind leg.

"Don't worry, Dream," I panted. "You'll be okay."

George remained silent. Perhaps he was already preparing for the worst.

*29 minutes remain*

~George~

I was already preparing for the worst.

"I can feel his heartbeat," Sapnap rasped. He knelt beside me while Jazzie stood above us. "He has to be okay." I yearned to believe him.

Sensing his allies' urgency, Dream squeaked: a disturbingly high-pitched sound for his burly size. Examining Dream's matted pelt, I noticed streaks of blood dampening the gray fur.

"Jazzie, you know the secret," I addressed her. "Can we change Dream back?"

"Yes, but it's risky," she admitted. "You won't like it." Crouching into the sand, she joined us, lifting Dream's head so he did not inhale the fine particles. "Do you know how metamorphosis works in caterpillars?"

"I researched that!" I gasped with hope.

"When caterpillars become butterflies, a hormone called ecdysone activates their molting phase," she described. "During molting, their entire body melts while the cells transform. Our company's scientists used an altered form of ecdysone to enable metamorphosis in humans."

Recognizing the chemical I studied back at the flat, I asked, "How did you alter it?"

"The scientists were still perfecting the technology when we tested it on Dream," Jazzie explained. "During the initial transformation, they filled him with a form of ecdysone that only functions in an anaerobic environment, without oxygen." At Sapnap's and my bewilderment, she insisted, "If the oxygen content in the body drops, the ecdysone activates to change the cells back!"

"What should we do, then?" I shifted the hem of my blood-soaked shirt to press a clean area of fabric into Dream's belly.

"Dream must begin the molting phase before the ecdysone completes its lifespan. The altered form only lasts in the body for about twenty-four hours before disintegrating." With a remorseful sigh, Jazzie finished, "George and Sapnap, you'll have to lower Dream's oxygen content yourselves to change him back in time."

I scoffed, doubtful our friend could survive both a low oxygen content and a transformation after his excessive blood loss. "Lower his oxygen content by doing what? Strangling him?"

An unsettling silence revealed the answer. Clearing her throat, Jazzie confessed, "Strangulation is the most efficient method."

Sapnap glared at her. Eyes glittering with skepticism, he questioned me cautiously, "Are we sure Jazzie isn't lying?"

First, I was uncertain, until I noticed how the still-conscious Dream did not protest. Despite Sapnap's wariness, I reminded him seriously, "Dream believes her."

Reluctantly, my human friend conceded, "I guess so. She saved him from the dog, too." He agreed to trust Jazzie.

Barely audible, Dream whimpered, then groaned with pain. Carefully I stroked the fur along his snout. Sapnap joined; ignoring the blood permeating Dream's pelt, he rested his head gently upon the dog's shoulder.

"Can you hear us?" Sapnap murmured.

Ears twitching, Dream sniffed with confirmation. Nothing would convince our friend to surrender his determination to survive... yet if Jazzie told the truth, the ecdysone's altered form meant the only way to save Dream would be to kill him.

"We can't lose you, Dream," I whispered. "Please let us try to bring you back."

Dream's eyelids fluttered open. The pupils shrank as bright lights above the arena reflected off the eyeballs. Despite his canine form, my friend's ferocious care shone through. Do it, his resolute gaze dared, giving us permission to end his life.


	13. Death

**Content warnings: blood, mild gore, strangulation, animal death, human death, trauma**

*22 minutes remain*

~George~

Wishing us luck, Jazzie offered our team a private moment together. She departed with Dr. Mendesa's former guards, veterinarians, and assistants, leaving the arena's gate open. Upon their departure, Sapnap, Dream, and I had the arena and surrounding room to ourselves.

Still on his side, Dream flexed his spine with a groan of effort. Taking the hint, Sapnap and I flipped him so he lay on his back between us. Eye contact with our canine friend broke as he tilted his head back, exposing the faint pulse in his throat.

"Who's going to do it?" Sapnap broke the dreaded question of who would end Dream's life.

"You've been his friend forever," I offered weakly, unsure what solution I suggested. Sapnap interpreted it.

"Okay... I'll do it." Uncharacteristically squeamish, he agreed. I hoped no one would ever discover how thankful I was that my hands would not commit the murder. Sapnap grimaced. Extending one trembling hand, he stroked the soft fur along Dream's cheek.

Dream tensed beneath my hands with a small whimper. Although he trusted us immensely, faith did not quell his terror. His front paws touched Sapnap's and my wrists, searching for comfort.

"We love you, too," I whispered, holding his paws in both hands. "We'll bring you back."

Cradling his best friend's head in his lap, Sapnap clutched Dream's trachea and began to squeeze. The creature's chest lurched, instinctively trying to suck in air, but he did not flail or panic.

"Dream, we grew up together," Sapnap lamented. His knuckles whitened with effort. "You were always there for me." He leaned forward; tears dripped down his cheeks, dampening our friend's white-tipped gray fur. "If you come back, you never, ever have to forgive me, okay?"

I struggled to choose parting words. It's like saying goodbye at the hospital, I scolded myself. Tell him how you feel. My voice materialized as a pitiful moan, "Dream, you're the best ever! I wouldn't know how to carry on without you, and you inspire everyone around you to be better."

Thirty seconds passed. Already weak from blood loss, Dream slipped into unconsciousness. Then,

"I can't do it!" Sapnap gasped abruptly, releasing Dream's throat to scramble backwards. He wiped bloodied hands on his jeans, eyes wild with guilt and fear. Turning to me, he sobbed helplessly, "No, George, I can't do this to him. I can't do it..." His voice trailed into a whisper as he rubbed sweat off his forehead.

"Yes, you can," I encouraged feebly. Dream was close to death already without a sign of becoming human; surely his oxygen content was low enough by now? This isn't going to work! I wanted to wail with defeat.

The paw nearest to my wrist twitched weakly. Come on, you can do it, I imagined Dream pleading to me. Help me, George. Something snapped in my heart.

"Wait, Sapnap, I can do this," I whispered. He sobbed beside me, silently grateful as my fingers slithered over the delicate flesh of Dream's neck. Fear of losing him gave me immeasurable strength. Repositioning myself, I sat cross-legged and cradled Dream's head in my lap, gently stroking his swollen throat in preparation.

I began to squeeze the trachea. Though the poor creature flinched beneath me, my grip did not falter. Memories flashed through my head: meeting Dream for the first time, forming a friendship, discussing everything from stupid jokes to our deepest secrets, and watching him surpass everyone else's expectations. I wished to return to those good times, but they were gone now.

"We love you, Dream," Sapnap whispered, returning to our side. Clutching Dream's paw in one hand, he stroked the creature's flank with the other, carefully avoiding the gash in our friend's belly. "We're right here. We won't leave you."

My frozen lungs did not allow me to form words. The activity in my brain ceased, solely focusing on the broken creature beneath me. He resembled a crumpled leaf. One endless minute passed before the trachea no longer fought for air. The body beneath me relaxed, and the life slipped out. Sapnap and I held our friend, sharing him between us until his heart beat for the last time.

Dream was dead.

My grip on his throat relaxed. Only a jittery feeling of static remained in my hands, and my back ached. A memory of Dr. Mendesa entered my mind, from when he assured us we would not leave his company until we were "different people inside". He was right.

What would Dream's parents say? They spent eighteen years raising my friend, shaping him into the ambitious, fiercely devoted man who befriended me. What would his sisters and brother say? I had stolen their son, their brother.

I gasped when Sapnap touched my wrist. Dragging my eyes from Dream's body, I met his somber gaze.

"You did your best," he offered weakly, eyes sparkling with tears.

I quaked, unable to respond. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... I wished I could take it back. Our team should have grown up together. Perhaps eventually we would have chosen to go our separate ways, maintaining our friendship as we left our old lives behind to begin new ones. We should have found happiness together, but Dream would never experience that; with him gone, I could no longer imagine experiencing happiness myself. I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

As the burner phone's countdown read only 15 minutes remaining, the long wait for a change began. Sapnap and I guarded the body; the light from above felt colder, lifting the hairs along our arms. No one spoke.

Exhaustion wore me down. The chain-link fences surrounding the arena shimmered in my blurry vision, and my lungs could hardly swell with air. How ironic that I struggled to breathe after strangling the life from my friend.

"Time's almost up, but don't lose hope," Jazzie empathized; Sapnap and I looked up as she returned through the arena's open gate. "My team will move you outside." The several assistants and guards who stood behind Jazzie watched us expectantly. Some appeared unfazed and some appeared to be restraining their emotions. As the assistants approached, helping Sapnap and me clamber to our feet, the girl warned, "I'm sorry, but we have to blindfold you again. You can't know exactly where we are."

Sapnap and I complied as the guards tied blindfolds around our heads and guided us away.

"Please let us bring Dream with us," Sapnap implored to Jazzie.

"Of course," she vowed. "I didn't believe my father would go that far, but I should've known he would."

"How much time is left?" My friend mumbled, listening as someone dragged Dream's body behind us.

"Six minutes," I rasped.

Our eyes were closed and heads bowed, so the assistants and guards faced no resistance when they transported our shattered team out of the building and into open air; a salty breeze ruffled my hair. I no longer feared entering any unknown vehicle, for I never wanted to see this hellish place again.

"You won't ride in a van this time," Jazzie promised, leading us to a halt. Car doors opened. "This was my father's Mercedes."

"You can drive?" Sapnap questioned dubiously.

"You bet. Hop in."

Blindly Sapnap and I entered the back seat. When my hand felt downward, smooth upholstery rubbed against the palm. Rubbery new-car odors filled my nostrils; wrinkling my nose, I fumbled for a seat belt.

When the driver and her passengers settled into the Mercedes, three assistants draped Dream's body onto Sapnap's and my laps while others piled our baggage into the passenger seat beside Jazzie.

Car doors slammed shut, and the engine powered to life; the vehicle lurched forward, turned slightly, then accelerated. Jazzie did not instigate conversation as we drove; vaguely I wondered where we were going. Bleak with despair, Sapnap's and my shoulders slouched as we ran numb fingers through Dream's blood-soaked fur. I had not met the creature's gaze while strangling him; somehow, I was thankful I had not seen the light die in his eyes.

Along the drive, my internal countdown reached 0 minutes remaining. The deadline to reverse Dream's transformation passed, yet the wait for him to change back continued. With our friend's dead body in Sapnap's and my arms, we barely registered our freedom.

*No more time remains*

~George~

"You can take your blindfolds off," Jazzie's soft voice broke our silence as she parked the car.

Sapnap and I unbuckled our seat belts and removed our blindfolds to see the girl exit the driver's seat and open the back seat door. Glancing sideways out the window, I recognized my Brighton flat. She brought us home.

Jazzie moved to open the passenger door, dragging our baggage off the seat to place on the sidewalk. She joined Sapnap and me as we lay Dream's body on the mossy sidewalk. When we stood again, the girl apologized,

"I'm so sorry. The ecdysone should have worked by now." Blinking away tears, she held herself and offered condolences, "Don't blame yourselves for this, please. It's my father's and my fault." Plus, her staff got everything they wanted, I thought bitterly. The transformation machine worked, and the Mendesa company would profit off the technology.

"I don't blame you. You helped us break out." Sapnap accepted her apology. "You killed your dad for us."

Jazzie hesitated. Her deep brown gaze flitted to me as I listened in stoic silence. "George, are you okay? You look like you're going to faint."

"Dream trusted you enough to go along with your plan," I mumbled, words hanging in the tense air. Without answering her question, I asked my own, "Dream invited you to come with us. I trust his judgment, so what's your decision?"

"George, I appreciate you asking, but I couldn't do that," she blinked with surprise at my unexpected offer. "You and Sapnap need time to heal. I'll provide everything I can, private flights to Texas and Florida, but I won't come along. My father is dead, so I don't need to escape anyone anymore."

"Alright," I acknowledged, ending the interaction. Already, my voice felt hoarse. My legs ached, so I fell to my knees beside Dream's body.

"Thanks for your help, Jazzie," Sapnap appreciated, glancing down at me with concern. He and Jazzie shared a brief hug.

"Stay safe, Sapnap and George," the girl bid her earnest farewells. "Goodbye, Dream. I'm sorry for your loss. I was wrong."

"Bye, Jazzie," Sapnap nodded. Resisting the urge to collapse in a puddle of grief, I stood beside him. Together, we watched the girl hop into her late father's shiny black Mercedes car and drive away.

When I glanced at the concrete sidewalk beside our ruffled figures, I spotted Sapnap's and my backpacks, along with a bulging plastic bag. Leaving Dream's side, I peered into the bag, recognizing a white t-shirt, cargo shorts, Jesus sandals, a key ring, a wallet, and a fully charged smartphone: Dream's belongings.

"Sapnap," I mumbled. The empty shell of a man returned my gaze. "Let's go inside."

Lifting Dream's body between us, we carried the limp figure up the porch steps into my flat. The dog's body resembled a failed taxidermy project; the flesh beneath his bloodied, light gray fur appeared blue from a lack of oxygen. After laying our friend on the hardwood floor, Sapnap retrieved our baggage from outside. With a heavy sigh upon his return, he closed the front door behind him with his ankle and set our stuff down on the couch where he and Dream slept last night.

As we settled, I heard a patter of eager footsteps.

"Hello, Dog," I sighed as my pet greeted me with enthusiastic yips. Her tail immediately lowered at the sight of her shaken owner. I pointed across the flat, "Go to bed." Obediently my dog retreated, disappearing into my bedroom.

Recreating our arrangement from the arena, the three of us resided on the floor. Although tired and hungry, we did not move to eat or sleep. Bowing, I cradled Dream's head and neck in my lap while Sapnap absently rubbed his paws between his fingers.

When I heard the sound of a wheezing breath, I glanced up to meet Sapnap's alarmed gaze. We both assumed the noise came from the other. However, the desperate gasp for air came from the body between us.

Dream breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the finale!


	14. Freedom (finale)

**Content warnings: mentions of blood & gore & death, scars, nsfw, mild language**

~George~

"Something's happening," Sapnap breathed.

Speechlessly we gazed at the body below us, noticing a shift in Dream's white-tipped gray pelt. Our careful fingers brushed away fur as it detached from Dream's body, leaving peachy flesh exposed. My hand slid along his bare chest as his heart beat again, steady and powerful.

We burst into tears of relief as Dream's canine muzzle slowly receded into his skull. Soft human lips parted, inhaling ragged breaths. His freckled face rested against my thigh, jaw slack as his body recovered from the minutes of death. Gashes and wounds healed, leaving scars behind. The messy fur remaining on Dream's head adopted a dirty-blonde color.

"That's it, Dream, you're doing great," I murmured my support as our friend gradually returned to humanity. The transformation had reversed.

"Uh, George," Sapnap whispered, emerging from our fog of disbelief. "Got any towels?"

I frowned with confusion, then glanced up and discovered the reason for his question. Sapnap and I focused on Dream's upper body, thankful for the privacy of my flat when he emerged from his canine body completely naked.

"Yeah, I have towels," I nodded. Although our baggage included Dream's clothes, they were a day old and reeked of sweat. "Watch him, please."

Sapnap clutched Dream's head in both hands, supporting his limp neck as I slid from underneath. Dizzy from crying, I stumbled to the bathroom closet. Retrieving a large white towel, I rushed back to Sapnap. As he draped the fabric over Dream's lower half, our friend's newly human hand shuddered. Long, pale fingers traced indecipherable letters on the hardwood floor.

"You can talk now, I think." Sapnap stroked our friend's cheek.

Dream's eyelids fluttered open. His gaze was glassy and unfocused as he regained consciousness. Only his neck had not returned to normal; I recognized the shape of my own handprints bruising the delicate flesh. Suddenly reluctant to stay close, I retreated out of Dream's field of view with a bizarre urge to hide. My back pressed against the far wall of the flat's main room. They'll never look at me the same way again.

"Sapnap?" He mumbled groggily.

"Welcome back, Dream." An overwhelmed Sapnap met his eyes.

"Everything hurts," Dream groaned.

"Yeah, but the company let us go," Sapnap reassured, cradling our friend's head in his lap. "We're safe."

"Where am I?" Dream turned his head slowly, observing his surroundings. Recognizing my flat, he sighed with relief. One foot twitched. Then, shifting his shoulders, he frowned with puzzlement. An astonished gasp followed, "Wait, you can understand me!" His gaze slid downwards and he lifted the towel to view himself. "And I'm... why am I naked?" Aghast, he adjusted the fabric to conceal his male reproductive organs. "No, don't look!"

I suppressed a genuine laugh as Sapnap helped him sit up. Dream winced at the huge scar marring the otherwise clear skin of his belly. Rolling up the bottom edge of the towel, he gingerly touched the bite mark on his formerly broken leg. Both patches of flesh were raised, discolored, and leathery in texture.

"Do the scars hurt?" Sapnap asked. "They look pretty badass."

"They ache, but I guess they could be worse," Dream shook his head. "What happened after the fights? It's kind of blurry."

"You died." While kneeling, Sapnap edged backwards. He feared our friend's judgment, too.

"What?" Dream's eyes widened. "Oh, come on, no way." Then, he stopped. After a moment of consideration, he admitted quietly, "I remember someone strangling me." I wondered if Dream sensed me pressing myself against the far wall, shrinking into the shadows of the flat, but his gaze fixed on Sapnap. "It was you, right?"

Sapnap swallowed apprehensively. Shrinking into himself, he stammered, "I started, I mean, I did the first part, then I felt like I couldn't, and I got so scared for you..." Hiding his face in his hands, he trailed off with a sob.

"No, wait, I'm so sorry!" Observing Sapnap's guilt, Dream apologized profusely. "I don't know how the transformation worked and I wanted to understand."

Sapnap winced. Lowering his hands, he completed his account, "I got scared and couldn't finish."

"Wait, you didn't kill me?" Dream frowned with confusion. Although he faced away from me, my stomach dropped as I sensed his unspoken question: "Then who did?"

~Dream~

A dull, aching pain throbbed in my belly, thigh, and knee: reminders of where dog teeth punctured flesh and shattered bones. Although my wounds healed during the reversal of my transformation, the damage was permanent. Self-conscious, I pulled up the towel draping over my waist to hide the hideous scars.

Sapnap's distant gaze slid past me. Following his eyes, I witnessed George's distant figure hovering silently in the far corner of the flat's main room. Motionless in the shadows, he held himself. His dark brown gaze fixed on me, with lips pursed together and pale skin colorless as if he were a ghost.

"George?" I called softly to avoid straining my sore throat.

His arms dropped, hanging limp by his sides.

"Come here, it's okay," I encouraged, beckoning him to approach.

"Hi, Dream," he hesitated. With a small cough, he stared desolately at the floor.

"Did you do it?"

"Yeah. I did it."

My heart softened as George's knees trembled weakly, bowing together. Quickly wrapping the towel around my waist with a tight knot, I rose from the hardwood floor onto bare feet.

No words broke the flat's silence as Sapnap stood beside me; we approached our friend in unison. Tilting my head to one side, I failed to catch George's frightened gaze as Sapnap and I halted before him.

"George, did you save me?"

"I didn't save you." He shook his head, hoarse from crying. His eyes closed as if to banish me from his sight; tears seeped from beneath the eyelids, dribbling down reddened cheeks. "Please don't forgive me." Finally, George lifted his head; his bloodshot brown gaze met mine. "I don't care if I saved you. You can't keep me as your friend..." His voice trailed into sobs.

Sympathy overwhelmed me. I pulled George into a comforting hug. Instantly he pressed his face into the crook of my neck.

"It's okay," I soothed as his torso pressed against the exposed flesh of my chest. Rubbing his heaving back, I reassured, "It's over now. I forgive you."

"You were amazing, George." Sapnap added himself to the hug, wrapping his arms around us.

George's fingers crawled across my back. Faint memories of powerful hands around my throat resurfaced; they belonged not only to Sapnap, but also to George. After a brief moment of comfort, I pulled away to address the friends who saved my life, "Thank you."

Neither spoke, but Sapnap gave a half-smile and George wiped his tears away. Blood stained my friends' hands and clothes. Is that mine?

"It's so good to have you back, Dream," George returned.

"I'm happy to be back," I smiled. Stepping backwards, I stretched. "Changing the subject, is anyone else hungry?" Although exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me, my hunger was stronger.

"Yeah, I'm starving," Sapnap agreed enthusiastically.

I snapped my fingers. "Let's order a pickup meal." Glancing at the towel around my waist, I added, "Except I can't go out like this."

"I have clothes," George suggested. Leading our team to his bedroom, he opened his dresser to gather socks, boxers, gray sweatpants, and a black t-shirt, all of which seemed too large for him. He handed me the outfit with an impassive scowl, and I smirked. George was too proud to admit how clothes oversized on him would fit me snugly.

George and Sapnap politely returned to the flat's main room, lending me privacy as I changed. Returning to the kitchen, I voiced the newest dilemma on my mind,

"We've got to get home." Travelling overseas would be risky during the current pandemic, and impossible without proper identification. "How are we going to go back? I didn't have my passport when I was kidnapped."

"Jazzie promised us private flights, so you won't need a plane ticket," George answered.

"What happened to Jazzie?" His mention of the girl's name worried me. "What did Dr. Mendesa do to her?"

"Wrong question," Sapnap shook his head. "She killed him."

"Oh." It explains why I'm not dead, I mused, thankful our alliance with the girl fulfilled its goal. The room fell silent; despite my hunger, I noticed George still rubbing the sides of his arms, crestfallen.

Sheepishly I asked, "George, I feel bad asking this, since you just gave me your clothes, but do you have, like, a bandana or something?" As a human, not wearing a mask was risky because of the pandemic, and because someone might recognize my face.

"Oh, yes," George nodded, leading me back to his bedroom. Sapnap waited for us beside the couch, kneeling to play with George's energetic dog.

As George rummaged through his dresser, I addressed him in a soft voice, too low for Sapnap to hear from the other room. "George, I do need a mask, but also, I want to talk."

Tensing, he faced me. "Okay." Unease shadowed his dark brown eyes. I wondered if he thought I was watching him, sizing him up. George's jittery behavior, hunched stance, and shifting eyes revealed he was capable of far more than I was aware of.

"How did you do that, George?" I whispered.

"I thought I couldn't," he croaked. "If it were the other way, would you have killed me?"

"I don't know," I admitted, scratching the back of my neck. "I can't imagine how hard that must have been. I know you don't want to hear it, but I forgive you."

With a wavering sigh, George moved closer to hug me. Surprised, I embraced his shoulders as his arms wrapped around my torso.

"I thought you were dead forever," he sniffled.

"I know." I thought I was, too.

Together we swayed slightly. Pulling away, George blushed; he would never want me to mention this heartfelt moment again. I suppressed a laugh as he purposely changed the subject,

"Anyway, I have something for you." Opening the dresser's top shelf, he withdrew and offered a face covering in my direction. "Here." I opened the piece of fabric, revealing a patterned blue bandana. "It should help while we're out in public," George explained as I experimentally wrapped the bandana around the lower half of my face.

Taking advantage of the moment, I raised an eyebrow to joke, "Are you sure you don't want a nice, steamy kiss before we go out?"

"I'm pretty sure," George scoffed, looking away. Then, his head snapped back with a gasp. "Wait, we need to call someone first." He dashed from the bedroom.

My bare feet thumped along the hardwood floor as I followed him into the flat's main room, where George unzipped his backpack and pulled out his smartphone. Tapping the screen for several seconds, he waited to press the final button until Sapnap and I stood beside him.

"Who are you calling?" We peered over George's shoulder until he handed the ringing phone to me. My heart softened as I read the caller ID: Dream's Mom. Instantly I pressed the phone to my ear, eyes brimming with fresh tears when the line picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom," I greeted with a giddy laugh, my voice thick with relief.

My mother shrieked with delight. "You're okay! How's the United Kingdom? Are you still with George? It's early here, but you must've eaten lunch already."

"We're doing fine, Mom." I repeated her name for the pure sake of it, for I might have lived the rest of my life without being able to say it again. "Actually, we're heading out for dinner right now."

"Oh, okay, don't let me interrupt you!" My mother wished us luck. "Thank you for calling back! We're excited to have you home in Florida again. Patches misses you!"

"Of course, don't worry," I reassured her. Remembering Jazzie's promise, I added, "I think I've got a plane home, so I won't take much longer."

Ending the call, my mother and I said our goodbyes. I would have cried articulating how thankful I was I had not died without seeing her again.

After the call, Sapnap, George, and I exchanged glances. All of us were tired and hungry; collectively we prepared to exit the flat in search of a meal.

"Hey, Dream, let me see that scar." Despite his bold words, Sapnap stroked my scar gently when I lifted the black t-shirt's lower hem. "Damn, these make you look hot."

"Today was Dream's chest, arms, legs, and back reveal," George joked.

"Don't forget, it was also his [CENSORED] reveal," Sapnap added with a cocky grin.

Color flooded my cheeks. Joining their banter, I teased, "I hope you guys didn't stare too long while I was asleep."

"For real, this makes us super close friends now," Sapnap smirked. "Hey, George, want to reach the next level by showing him our anatomy?"

"No one wants to see your gross, hairy [CENSORED], Sapnap," I protested, feigning offense.

"Guys, stop," George admonished. "This story cannot have a mature rating because of you idiots making inappropriate jokes."

"It's already rated mature for violence," Sapnap argued, rolling his eyes. "Dream got brutally torn apart by dogs, then his best friends murdered him. Also, he licked our fingers in Chapter 9 and I think that's weird enough to count as being not-safe-for-work."

Pulling open the front door, we exited the flat. Leading us down the front steps to the concrete sidewalk, George questioned, "What do you want to eat?"

"Anything," I shrugged.

"[CENSORED]," Sapnap blurted.

We laughed at our wildly different answers. I tugged on the hems of my bandana, concealing the lower half of my face as we entered the public view.

A rosy sunset lit the early evening sky. Silhouettes of birds streaked high above our heads. I inhaled deeply, relishing Brighton's salty, ocean-side breeze as our team explored the city. Gazing with awe at the glowing neon signs and bustling traffic surrounding us, we ambled through the streets, passing the butcher shop and the park from earlier in our journey.

Ultimately, we located a small restaurant for dinner. Residing at a table outside, seated far from the other patrons, we relaxed and ate in peace. Despite Brighton's incredible distance from my apartment, anywhere Sapnap, George, and I were together felt like home.

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me on this journey! I haven't published a story in years, and it's such a thrill to get back into it! All of you readers leaving votes and comments mean the world to me. I'll see you in the next story :D -- Ravioli Hailstorm


End file.
